Lost Things Found
by lourdesmont
Summary: What would happen if history revisited itself in the lives of Raoul and Christine in the person of their youngest child and only daughter? And would there be a guardian Angel to save, redeem and reconcile?
1.

_Location:_ France - 1896

_Author:_ Lourdesmont

_Rating:_ PG-13 for physical and emotional battery and drug abuse. It is nothing that cannot be seen in a primetime drama on after 10 p.m. at night.

_Disclaimer:_ The basis for this story owes 99 percent to the AL Webber movie, 00.09 percent to the song "One Thing I Know" by Selah and the remaining 00.01 percent of inspiration to the gothic romance and danger of Victoria Holt novels. Raoul, Christine and Erik belong to Gaston Leroux. Everyone else belongs to my obsessed little mind and me.I have given Erik a last name for the sake of this story which is introduced in Chapter Five.

_Author's Notes:_ I have lived with my own tortured lovebirds for the last fourteen years and maybe that is why this story seems to always rip my heart out. I have researched stalking, emotional and physical torture and the aftermath - it is never pretty and it is something that never leaves you. It affects not only the victim but those who surround that person. Even though I was glad that Christine ended up with Raoul (I always cheer for the good guy! - no bashing, plese!), I also felt sympathetic toward Erik. I guess I connected with the "outsiderness" that was his life. I always wanted a happy ending for Raoul and Christine and a chance for Erik to redeem himself. I also wanted to find a way for the three of them to make peace with each other and with what happened. This is my version of that happy ending. Much thanks to John and Jean for beta-reading this; they are co-writers and friends of many years and I trust their skills, eye for detail and judgment completely.

**Chapter Summary:** Christine and her daughter, Annalise, welcome home husband and brother. Plans are made to meet the brother's roommate.

CHAPTER ONE

"He's coming home, he's coming home!" the young woman said happily as she tripped down the stairs, long dark hair bouncing around her shoulders, her blue skirt held up by two tiny hands to prevent tripping. Her mother stood at the bottom of the stairs smiling indulgently.

"Annalise," Christine, Comtesse de Chagny, sighed, "where are your manners?" She reached out to finger her daughter's loose soft curls. "And why is your hair not dressed? Or, at least, a ribbon run through."

Annalise looked back at her mother, her blue eyes wide and innocent, the smile so like that of her father. "Maman, I am sorry but I am afraid I did not want to sit still long enough for my hair to be dressed forI long to see Gustave when he comes through the front door!I have missed him so! And I promise to dress and behave like a lady for dinner."

It was so hard not to indulge her youngest child Christine thought as she pinched the child's chin and smiled at her. Annalise was the perfect combination of her parents with her mother's beauty, her father's intelligence and the spirit of each combined in one joyous package. Christine marveled at her daughter's ability to wrap mother, brothers and father around her small fingers. Soon, though, that would be gone as Annalise had just turned seventeen and was of an age when marriage must begin to be considered but for now there was still time to enjoy the infectious spirit that filled their lives.

Christine tried being serious as she looked into her daughter's twinkling eyes. "I shall hold you to your word, child. I expect to see a young lady at my dinner table tonight."

Annalise gave her mother a bright smile and a quick kiss on the cheek before taking her arm. "I shall be the perfect lady."

"I doubt it not."

"When are they going ..." Annalise stopped in mid-sentence as the sound of carriage wheels could be heard on the stone drive outside. She let go of her mother's arm and ran to the window just in time to see a carriage bearing her father's Coat-of-Arms on the door stop at portico. The carriage opened and a young man with dark, wavy hair stepped out. Annalise turned to her mother. "They're here!" She said before running through the door opened by the waiting footman. Christine followed her daughter at a statelier pace.

"Annalise!" the young man exclaimed as he opened his arms wide and his sister ran into them.

"Gustave!"

Christine smiled at her children before turning her attention to the tall man standing behind them, her smile softening. The past twenty-six years had done little to age theformer Vicomte de Chagny. Raoul was still tall and straight, his sandy hair much shorter and more in fashion, tinged with just a touch of gray. He had grown a moustache in the intervening years and Christine remembered how it had tickled those first months. His eyes still held a gentle light when they looked at her and he was still her safe harbor from the cares of the day and the horrors of the night. Christine sighed happily as warm thoughts filled her, she would sleep well tonight now that Raoul was home.

"Ahem," The Comte cleared his throat and Annalise and Gustave broke their tight hug. "What of your father?" Raoul's eyes were shining. "Do I not get a hug for bringing your beloved brother home to you?"

Annalise embraced her father, feeling the gentle strength of his arms close about her. "I would hug you just for being my father," she said into his coat.

Raoul kissed his daughter on her head, enjoying the feel of her small frame in his arms. He remembered how tiny she had been at birth, their last child, the daughter for whom they had prayed. She was almost an exact duplicate for her mother, except for the smile; that she had gotten from him. Raoul held on to her, reluctant to let her go, almost afraid to let her go. This child needed to be guarded and protected. That was a father's responsibility. That was his responsibility. It was something, he had promised the tiny infant from the first moment he had laid eyes upon her, at which he would never fail.

"Maman," Gustave said as he took his mother's hand, kissing it gently. He was two years older than his sister with the same wavy dark hair that was their mother's legacy but the rest of it was all his father from the eyes to the smile to the gentle mannerisms. "You are lovelier than I remember."

Christine laughed softly. Her children, Annalise, Gustave and their older brothers, Richard and Jean-Paul, were the joys of her life. When young, they had filled long, lonely hours when Raoul was busy with the workings of life. They loved her unconditionally asking for nothing in return. The children filled a part of her heart she had not even known existed until that moment when Jean-Paul had been placed in her arms. Now they were young adults with lives of their own and the small children of the past had been replaced by the grandchildren of the present. But for the moment Christine was satisfied with the two children who still remained at home.

"She will always be lovely," Raoul said as he took his wife's hand from his son, raising it to his lips. The glow in his eyes was only for Christine. It had always been hers alone.

Annalise and Gustave exchanged grins. The bond between their parents had always amused the children when they were young and intrigued them as they grew older.

"Come," Christine said as she took her husband's hand. "Tea waits in the parlor and I wish to hear all about the joys of schooling in England."

Gustave grinned sheepishly. "Surely not all, Maman?"

"Yes," Christine assured him. "All."

So Gustave regaled his parents and sister with tales of his studies at Oxford. He told them of living in a small garret with another young man, the two barely able to get their clothing and books in the living quarters. He talked of learning the classics from men who challenged his mind and thinking. He spoke of the athletics that challenged his body; although, he swore he would never understand the English love for cricket. He glossed over the stories of drinking and women and was rewarded with a slight nod from his father. He assured them he had enjoyed his year of study abroad but was now home for good and ready to study in Paris. It seemed to Gustave a wave of relief surged through his mother when he spoke those words.

"And I should dearly like if I may ask Andrew to luncheon," Gustave said as he sipped the cognac from the crystal snifter.

Flickering candles in wall and table sconces reflected lights off crystal stemware that sat upon the rich wood of the dining table, the gas lights turned off in favor of the softer glow from wax tapers. Burgundy velvet covered the long windows that looked out over the side garden and the chairs that stood arrayed at attention on both sides of the table. Four of those chairs, gathered at one end of the long table, were occupied by Gustave, his sister and their parents. Dinner had long been over, the servants dismissed with a wave of Raoul's hand and now the family sat together, enjoying the company of loved ones and relaxing at the end of a long day.

"Andrew is the young American you have been living with?" Christine said as she frowned slightly. There had been so much news coming from her son all day that she had trouble keeping everything straight.

"Yes," Annalise interrupted. She had dressed for dinner in a light yellow silk gown, her dark hair pulled up and curling gently around her face. Her large, blue eyes glittered as brightly as the candles. She had been sitting with her brother while he directed the unpacking of his trunks and had learned things her parents did not know. The bond between the two youngest de Chagny children was strong and deeply affectionate. "He is in Paris visiting his cousin, the American ambassador and he has his sister with him. She is my age."

"Annalise," her father sighed with a smile as he put down his brandy snifter. Raoul often despaired of his daughter's mannerisms. At times she reminded him of nothing more than a young filly that needed to be given its head and he knew he was guilty of doing just that more than might be prudent. Raoul had always walked a fine line between protecting Annalise and giving her freedom. Yet this child could be every bit as elegant and dignified as her mother should she so choose. It was knowledge that comforted her father.

"Sorry," she replied with a little smile that wrinkled her nose.

"Andrew Cameron was the man I lived with at Oxford, Maman," Gustave said but looked at his sister. He had been gone for almost a year to study abroad in England and the intervening months had done little to mature this girl sitting next to him. "He is chaperoning his sister, Katherine, around Paris for the spring, summer and autumn before they go back to America. He is a good, honest man. I would not ask to bring anyone less through your doorway."

"His cousin is the ambassador?" his mother asked.

"Yes," Gustave assured her. "Andrew comes from a very distinguished American family. His father is one their senators - a member of their government. Andrew is planning on studying law and eventually would like to go into public service."

Raoul reached out, laying his hand gently over the one that Christine rested on the table. "I do not see an objection." His index finger caressed the back of Christine's hand saying more than mere words. Their own marriage had raised its share of societal eyebrows. "Perhaps, your friend would bring his sister?"

"And we could have months to show them around Paris!" Annalise chirped in. "And I could have a new friend!"

Christine shook her head slightly. Her daughter would always see the bright side of any situation. Christine looked to Raoul for guidance and turned to smile at the children seated opposite. "I shall send the invitation tomorrow."

Gustave and Annalise smiled and clasped hands.


	2. 

**Chapter Summary:** Andrew Cameron, the roommate from university, and his sister Katherine receive an invitation to luncheon.

CHAPTER TWO

The sunny withdrawing room of the American ambassador's Paris residence was set for breakfast. Silver chafing dishes with the remnants of eggs, pancakes and sausages sat upon a highly polished buffet, their aromas drifting throughout, bringing a sense of home to those displaced from the familiar. A servant was carrying out a tray full of dirty dishes while another was pouring coffee into a white china cup sitting in front of one of the four people surrounding the little round table. The servant lifted the silver coffee pot and turned his attention the middle-aged man at his left.

"Sir?" he asked.

William Charles Norris, the American ambassador looked up from perusing the papers that had arrived in that morning's post. He placed his hand over the cup and shook his head. "Leave the pot on the sideboard and then you may go."

The servant nodded, turning to place the coffee pot on the sideboard with the other silver breakfast dishes and discreetly left the room.

William placed the week old paper on the table in front of him and looked around the table. "Is there anything exciting in the post?"

His wife, Abigail, seated next to him was looking carefully at the addresses of the letters she held in her hand. She looked up and over the top of her small glasses. "Letters from various friends -nothing that cannot wait till later." She looked over at her niece. "I have a letter from your mother. Did she write you as well?"

Katherine Cameron, recently turned sixteen, held a white envelope gently in her hands and sighed wistfully. She was an attractive young girl with blonde hair that seemingly rebelled against holding any type of curl. She had golden brown eyes that mirrored the shyness of her soul and her skin, while fine, was paler than her relatives liked to see. "She did," Katherine acknowledged drawing the letter to her chest. "Oh how I miss home."

"I think I can take care of that," her brother announced from where he was seated at her side.

It was not difficult for a casual stranger to tell that Andrew and Katherine Cameron were related. Andrew had the same blonde hair and brown eyes as his sister but Andrew's eyes were bright with a twinkle at the edges that bespoke of a merry and friendly soul. On the table in front of him lay a cream colored envelope and in his hands Andrew held a note on the same fine stationary, delicate writing flowing across the paper, a seal embossed at the top.

A frown creased William's face. "What is that?"

Andrew flicked a finger against the note in his hand. "Please forgive the shortness of notice but we would request the honor of having you and your sister, Katherine," Andrew smiled at his sister, "join our family for luncheon Friday this at noon." He looked up from his reading with a grin and a raised eyebrow. "It is signed by Christine, Comtesse de Chagny."

"Do you know that name?" William asked his wife.

Abigail took a sip of coffee and returned the cup to its saucer. "I believe we have met the Comtesse and her husband at a few gatherings. They are quite generous patrons of certain arts – the museum andcathedrals, the symphony. Very nice people as I recall." She looked at her nephew. "How do you know them? And well enough to garner an invitation, I might add."

"Gustave de Chagny was my roommate at Oxford. He's a decent type of guy and he always said that if I was ever in Paris he would introduce me to his family." Andrew looked at his sister. "He has a sister – I think her name is Annalise – who is only a few months older than you." His eyes grew gentle. "I have a feeling you would like her from Gustave's description of her. And you could use someone your own age to talk with, Kitt."

Katherine's eyes grew concerned. "But what would I say to them? I don't know how to talk to people like that!"

Andrew laughed. He loved his sister but she needed to be drawn out of her shell. She needed to show the world the bright, sweet person he was privileged to know. "You talk to them the same way you to talk to the American ambassador who is seated across the table from you. They are just people."

"But," Katherine tried, "William is our cousin not some person with a title!"

"I wonder what my staff would say to that," William commented as he wiped his lips, placing his napkin on the table and standing. He held out his hand to his wife.

"I ... I didn't mean ..." Katherine looked distressed.

"He knows what you meant, child," Abigail assured her. "We will leave the two of you to discuss this."

"Meaning Andrew gets his way again."

Andrew looked shocked. "I always get my way! Kitt …" he was pleading as William and Abigail closed the door behind them.

"Wasn't there some sort of a scandal about these people?" William asked his wife. "Or was I hearing things again."

"You were not hearing things. It has to do with that ruined opera house." Abigail touched her husband's arm. "Madame la Comtesse was a singer." She heard a door open and withdrew her hand. "I shall tell you the rest as you get ready."

Andrew came out of the door, a grin on his handsome face. "I talked her into it!" he exclaimed. "I said I always get my way."

So it was that four days later, on Friday, a coach drawn by two dappled grays arrived at the ambassador's residence to pick up and convey Andrew and Katherine Cameron to their luncheon with Gustave and his family. Katherine, dressed in brown satin, sat next to her brother, thin fingers nervously picking at the material of her skirt. Andrew sighed and took his sister's hands into his own.

"Kitt, please," he begged. "It is not like we are going to a funeral. We are going to have lunch with a friend and meet his parents and family. You really must try to enjoy yourself."

"Sometimes I feel like that building," Katherine told him as she pointed at a ruined shell of a building that the carriage was passing, windows boarded up, stone and marble charred and blackened by what had obviously been a fire.

"That's the old opera house," her brother told her.

"Well, I do not feel exactly old but I do feel like I am just sleeping until someone comes along and wakes me up." Katherine sighed. "I wish I wassurer of myself."

"You have a good deal to offer," Andrew assured her. "And maybe you'll meet a new friend today. Annalise is supposed to be a wonderful person. Give her a chance. Promise me." Katherine was silent. Andrew knew the signs. "Kitt, promise me."

"I promise," Katherine whispered turning her face towards the carriage window to watch the city of Paris go by.

And Paris continued to go by at a quick pace as the dappled gray geldings moved easily through the streets and avenues under the learned hands of their driver. Andrew tried to interest his sister in the scenes that passed by the carriage windows – grand cathedrals and small churches, cafes, town homes, shops, people moving through their daily lives. The city of Paris eventually gave way as the buildings grew fewer and the streets broader, less crowded. Finally the carriage slowed, turning into a tree-lined avenue, passing through large ironwork gates.

Andrew whistled under his breath. "Nice."

The carriage was moving down a graveled drive towards a two story home flanked on each corner by round towers with pointed roofs from which fluttered brightly colored flags. Large windows lined both stories of the house, their curtains drawn back giving the visitor a glimpse into the very soul of the home. Green lawns, open and sunny, surrounded the home, beds of tiny purple and yellow crocuses acting as grace notes to the emerald symphony played by the wind as it ruffled the blades of grass. All shade and shadows had been banished to the very edge of the property where tall trees stood as guardians against the outside world. It was almost as if someone was trying to wish away darkness.

Slowly the carriage drew to a halt beneath a stone portico. A man, dressed in the formal black of a servant, opened the carriage door, moving the steps into position as Andrew stuck his head out. He ignored the hand the servant offered him and barely touched even one of the steps as he exited the carriage. Andrew turned around and smiled at the blonde head that was just beginning to peak around the edge of the carriage door. He was distracted by a voice calling his name.

"Andrew!"

Andrew turned around to see the front door opening and his friend, Gustave stepping out. He took the hand that was offered him, clasping it warmly.

"Gustave, it is good to see you again," Andrew told him, smiling inwardly to himself for his friend's eyes were not looking at him. Andrew turned around to see his sister being handed out of the carriage; he took her arm gently. "May I present my sister, Katherine?"

Gustave took Katherine's hand and bowed over it. "Mademoiselle, I am very pleased to finally meet you. Your brother has spoken fondly of you to me. I see that he spoke the truth."

Katherine lowered her eyes and blushed prettily. "I believe my brother is fond of me, sir."

"I am," Andrew assured her, "very fond."

"Sir?" Gustave appeared shocked. "That is term I use to address my father. You must call me Gustave." He lowered his head to capture Katherine's gaze. "I am a close friend of your brother's so it would not be at all improper."

"Thank you," Katherine raised her eyes, "Gustave."

Gustave finally let go of the hand he had held. "We should go in. The rest of the family is waiting to meet you."

"All of them?" Andrew asked.

"Oh, most assuredly they are all here. When my mother asks something there is not a one of us who would refuse her request. My brothers and their wives are inside as well as my niece and nephew," Gustave thought for a moment, "although, I believe they are in the nursery." He smiled at Katherine. "They are still quite small, you understand. My parents, of course, are also here. Finally there is my sister who, I think, will be quite glad of you. She is your age or a bit older and a very unique person." He stepped aside, allowing Andrew to lead his sister through the front door.


	3. 

**Chapter Summary:** Luncheon at the de Chagny home outside Paris with the new American friends. The rest of Raoul and Christine's family are introduced.

CHAPTER THREE

Katherine sat quietly at the dining table as servants cleared away the dishes and wondered how she had ever allowed herself to be talked into this. These people were so very different from her family, they were animated and vibrant and everyone had something to say. Meals at home were not like this! Those times were quiet and reserved, Father asking questions, Mother smiling benignly down upon her two children. Here the meal was full of chatter and laughter, the languages alternating quickly between French and English, people talking over each other, ignoring the servants who stood discreetly in the background. Katherine peeped through her lashes to study the faces around her, trying to remember faces and personality.

Across from her sat a handsome young man with sandy brown hair and warm brown eyes. That was the oldest son, Katherine thought, Jean-Paul. Sheliked him; he had been quiet and greeted her with gentleness. During the luncheon, he had also managed to reach her eyes and draw her into the noisy family circle. To his right sat his wife, Therese, a small woman with huge violet-blue eyes and hair the color of flame. Therese had a quick laugh and a bright sparkle in those eyes. Katherine concentrated and remembered that they were the parents of two-year old Bertrand.

Seated next to Therese was another young man with the same sandy hair and brown eyes as Jean-Paul and that, Katherine recalled, was Richard, the middle brother. He was more like her, Katherine thought; Richard was quiet and observant but always ready with a wise comment. Katherine knew he would be someone she would like to join in conversation. Seated next to Richard was his wife, Leonie, a lovely green-eyed brunette, who reminded Katherine of a serene Madonna, still and peaceful. Or perhaps that was just because Leonie was a new mother; her daughter, three-month old Chloe, asleep in the upstairs nursery with her cousin Bertrand.

Katherine had been safely sheltered during the meal by having Andrew seated to one side and Gustave to the other. The two young men had done most of the talking, telling stories of their school days, finishing each other's sentences. They had everyone laughing as they spoke of playing "Robin Hood" in the woods surrounding their garret, robbing their rich friends only to use the money to buy food and drinks at the local pub. That story had earned a sigh and shake of the head from the woman seated at the foot of the table.

A quarter of a century had done little to mar the beauty of the Comtesse. Christine's hair was still dark and shiny with only a few strands of silver beginning to peak through. Four children and nearly twenty-five years of marriage had done nothing to her slim figure. And she had the most luminous eyes that Katherine had ever seen in any person. Eyes that - Katherine was certain - would break your heart if you stared into them long enough. But the Comtesse had been so kind during the meal, asking questions of Katherine about her family and home in those moments when her own children took a breath before continuing their own speech; Katherine had liked her instantly.

At the opposite end of the table, seated at the head, was the Comte. Katherine's heart had melted when she had been introduced to him. The Comte was as kind and gentle as her own father and he seemed to sense Katherine's longing for that man on the other side of the ocean. The Comte had led her into luncheon, patting the hand on his arm, speaking softly to her, giving Katherine a sense of security and comfort. Katherine could not help but see the way his eyes had lit up when they looked at his wife. She had decided then and there that she undoubtedly liked him.

The young woman who was seated to the Comte's left, though, scared and worried Katherine for she had never met such a spirited person. Annalise had laughed nearly the entire way through the meal, her food barely touched. She had talked to everyone, her head moving to catch each eye. She was so animated and full of life, Katherine thought; nothing at all like the other young women she counted as friends and acquaintances. In some way, Katherine was envious of Annalise who, in spite of her position, obviously felt free to let her soul and spirit dance their way through life.

"Would you like to do that, Katherine?"

Katherine was startled out of her silent reverie to find Annalise addressing her. She blushed. "I am sorry. I was deep in thought."

The Comtesse lifted her napkin from her lap, placing it on the table in front of her. "It is no wonder. I am afraid my family has barely given you time to even catch your breath over the last hours." Her eyes smiled gently at Katherine.

"Pray, accept my apologies for our children," the Comte added, directing a raised eyebrow and a tilt of his head at his daughter.

"I was wondering," Annalise tried again knowing and ignoring the look from her father, "if you would like to take a turn around our garden. The early spring flowers are blooming and it is such a lovely day."

"I should like that," Katherine told her, she felt the need for air.

The young women began to rise and the men pushed their chairs back from the table coming to their feet.

"Annalise," Christine addressed her daughter in a tone that finally stopped the spirited young woman. "Please take a shawl and your brother."

Gustave looked at Andrew. "Care for a walk? We can go to the stables." He looked at his mother. "We can all go to the stables."

"I would like that," Andrew told him. "We have the most wonderful horses back in Virginia."

"Do you ride?" Annalise could be heard asking Katherine as the four young people left the bright dining room.

"I am afraid I do not ride very well," Katherine had to admit as she drew the shawl Annalise had given her around her shoulders.

"My father taught us," Annalise said. "We have all been riding since we were old enough to stay upright in the saddle. Father is a wonderful horseman."

The small stones of the path crunched under their feet as they moved through the formal gardens at the back of the house. Annalise and Katherine had shawls draped lightly over their arms, a nod to Christine's request and not to the lovely warmth of a very early spring afternoon. Gustave and Andrew walked, discreetly, a few paces behind their sisters.

"What do you make of my family now that you have met them?" Gustave wondered.

"They are everything you described them to be," Andrew told him. "They are very nice."

"I do believe there is a genuine compliment hidden in that statement," Gustave laughed.

"There is," Andrew assured him. "I find your family to be warm and welcoming. If it would not seem too forward, though, may I ask a question of a somewhat personal nature?"

"Andrew! You have held my head as I was sick after a night of too much drinking, if that is not as personal as one can get, then I do not know what is! Please, ask your question. I promise not to take offense."

Andrew grinned. "We have held each other's heads." The two men laughed; Andrew grew serious. "This is your own backyard yet your sister cannot walk here without your company? I realize that proprieties must be met but, surely, not within the confines of your own home."

Gustave sighed and clasped his hands behind his back. "Oh, the proprieties must always be met but you are right, our mother has always been concerned that someone is with Annalise. We have never questioned it. Maman has not always been able to enforce that request, you understand, for Annalise will have her own way at times and Father will abet her. Actually, Father is the only one who seems to be able to reassure Maman that we are not little dolls who will be swallowed up by the cruel world."

"I suppose that all parents want to protect their children or, perhaps, it is just their daughters that they wish to cocoon. I know that our parents were reluctant to let Katherine come to Europe alone. They only agreed after someone from the diplomatic corps who was coming to serve in France with our cousin agreed to let Katherine travel with him and his family."

"I understand that," Gustave said. "Your sister is very reserved and very beautiful. I think that had I been her father, I would have done the same." He looked at Andrew. "What do you think of my sister?"

"She is beautiful and spirited." A smile warmed Andrew's face. "She is great fun, I think. She is everything you said."

"And more."

"That is something universal about all sisters!"

They laughed and Gustave stopped, pointing towards his left. "Those are the stables. Annalise," he called.

"I know," she called back. "You are going to the stables. We are going to keep walking."

Gustave shook his head. "Do not leave the grounds. You know what I mean. I do not wish to get a scolding from Maman." He saw his sister nod her head and wave at him over her shoulder. "She won't listen," Gustave said to no one in particular before turning to Andrew. "Come. Let me show you some of the finest horseflesh in all of France."

"Brothers," Annalise told Katherine with a smile as she took the girl's arm.

"They do mean well," Katherine assured her.

Annalise was slowly leading Katherine further and further from the house, winding her through the garden pathways. "We have the loveliest flowers here when they are all in bloom." She pointed at snowdrops and crocuses that had poked their tiny heads up to the world as heralds of a new season. "Soon there will Dutch tulips and daffodils. Then the lilacs and irises and lilies will bloom. There are always bright colors blooming out here and the smell is so delicious as it comes into your room on the morning breeze."

"We have the most beautiful roses back home that bloom all summer."

Annalise frowned. "We have never had roses and I do not know why." They walked on in silence for a moment. "Would you like to see one of my favorite spots?"

Katherine looked back towards the house and stables. "Are we not going a bit far?"

"It's not much further, I promise and we shall just look and come right back." Annalise twinkled. "It shall be a tiny adventure."

"I suppose," Katherine hesitated.

"Good!"

The two young women walked past the last of the formal beds and turned into a pathway that had been trampled through a swath of wild grasses and flowers. Ahead of them was a solid wall of ivy behind which stood a thick row of trees just budding with small green leaves. Annalise turned to smile at Katherine before letting go of her arm and reaching into the ivy. A click could be heard and as the wall of ivy was pulled back, Katherine saw the light coming through a wooden gate in a stone wall. She allowed Annalise to lead her through that gate and out into the outside world.

"It is so pretty!" Katherine exclaimed. "It looks like home."

They stood on a strip of grass just outside the open gate, fields opening up before them. Across the fields ewes were munching the sweet grass replenishing the energy necessary for the lambing season that loomed upon the horizon. Scattered amongst the white sheep were brown cows, their heads still, staring off into the distance as they thoughtfully chewed their cud. A herdsman passing by dipped his head in acknowledgement to the young women.

"This was our favorite playground when we were children," Annalise told her. "My brothers were always sneaking through that gate to come out and run and chase after the animals. I chased right after all of them as soon as I was old enough to follow. I think it distressed my mother to no end. And this is where we would ride under my father's watchful eyes until we had mastered our lessons. See that?" Annalise directed Katherine's attention to their right towards a small copse of trees and a road that ran nearby. "That is where all of us would play hide and seek. And that road is why my mother did not like us playing out here. It leads toward the country and occasionally gypsies will pass that way."

"Gypsies would scare me," Katherine said.

"I think they would scare any child but I always wanted to see them because I thought it would be exciting."

"And now?"

"I do not know," Annalise admitted. "I suppose I would still like to be scared. My mother and father used to tell me tales from the north when I was a child and some of them were quite scary full of wolves and gods with hammers and all sort of wonderful characters. I used to love those stories."

"I always liked happy stories," Katherine told her.

"Well, then, we shall have to make our own happy stories over the next few months while you are here in Paris." Annalise replied.

Katherine lowered her eyes before raising them and smiling gently. "I should like that very much."


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Summary:** Annalise and Katherine enjoy their time on the Paris social scene. And a family friend from school days is introduced.

CHAPTER FOUR

Late March took the spring winds and blew itself into April. April brought its showers and flowed into May bringing with it warm sun and a release from the heavy clothes of winter. May gaily danced its way into June with rainbows of color alighting everywhere from the bright plumage of returning birds to the bright plumage of the latest gowns from the fashion houses. It was a whirlwind of life as Paris and its citizens awoke from a cold winter to embrace each other and the city they loved. Restaurants and street cafes once again became places to see and to be seen. Salons were full of learned discussion and floating music. The sun smiled down upon Paris during the day and the city lights sparkled like fairies during the night.

It was into this fast paced, whirling lifestyle that Gustave and Annalise de Chagny introduced their friends, Andrew and Katherine Cameron. Annalise had declared herself to be Katherine's guardian angel - a term which gave the Comtesse pause - and had taken the shy American under her wing. Annalise had introduced Katherine to her favorite coiffeurs, the fashion houses she and her mother favored, the jewelers the family had patronized for long years and in the process had turned the retiring girl into a young woman on the edge of realizing her full potential. Chaperoned by their brothers and, occasionally, under the watchful eyes of parents the two young women set about to revel in the joy of being young and in one of the most romantic cities in the world.

"It is like having day and night walk into the same room together and not knowing which is brighter or more desirable," one fashionable young man said to another as Annalise and Katherine entered a crowded drawing room on a warm June evening. He looked appreciatively at Katherine who was dressed in a muted gold gown with a rich sapphire blue sash around her waist, sapphires dangling from her ears and nested in her blonde hair. "I think I should prefer to walk in the sunshine."

His companion raised an eyebrow and lifted one corner of his mouth in a not entirely pleasant smile. "I have always found the night to be far more exciting." His eyes traveled from the top of Annalise's dark curls, over the small diamond necklet that glittered at her throat, down the shimmering gray silk that hugged her young curves.

"You have a fine eye, Michaud," the young man told him. "Mademoiselle de Chagny is a turning into a great beauty but I would not cast my eye that way for an enjoyable dalliance. There are too many brothers in that family for my taste. Now," he said as he nodded his head toward Katherine, "that is Miss Cameron who is visiting from America. She is said to be in Paris till the late summer. Even though her brother is here and her cousin is the ambassador, one could still play without fear of any permanent consequences."

"I never count the consequences," Michaud said. "And I have not been gone from France or Paris that long that I would not recognize Mademoiselle de Chagny. She has grown and grown very well."

"You know her?"

"I was at school with her two eldest brothers. When I left for the Indies three years ago, she was a child applauding at our graduation." Michaud squared his shoulders, straightening his jacket. "I think I shall have to renew my acquaintance - if you will excuse me?"

"There are so many people tonight," Katherine whispered to Annalise.

Annalise twinkled back at her friend. "Is it not exciting? Madame Mercereaux is famed for her salon. I have longed to be old enough to be able to come here. We shall a lovely time as we listen to poetry and philosophy and meet new people. And there are so many handsome men!"

"And you promised to be on your best behavior," a familiar voice reminded her.

The two young women turned to see their brothers standing behind them. Gustave frowned at his sister, a sparkle in his eyes.

"Remember what you promised Father ..."

"Manners, manners, manners," the two finished together with a laugh.

Andrew held out his hand to his sister. "Come, Kitt, there is a discussion in one of the other rooms that might be interesting to hear. I think it is a professor or some such talking about something or other."

Katherine shrugged and tilted her head, "When in a Paris salon ..."

Annalise gave her hand a quick squeeze. "That is the spirit!"

"You are incorrigible," Gustave told his sister as Andrew led his own sister through the milling people.

"Can you introduce me to some of your friends?" Annalise asked as she bounced lightly on her toes.

"Madame Mercereaux has already promised Maman that she would introduce you to the right people. That is why I came to find you."

Annalise's face fell. "But ..."

"There are friends of mine to whom I would never introduce you," Gustave said with a look that silenced his sister. He immediately felt sorry for her and reached out to touch her cheek. "_Ma petite_, I promise I shall find friends to whom I can introduce you without risking the wrath of our parents. You like Andrew and Katherine, do you not?"

Annalise brightened. "I do. Very much." She was contrite. "I am sorry. I do not mean to cause trouble but it is just so much fun! And I do not want to miss anything."

"Monsieur de Chagny?"

Gustave and Annalise looked from each other to see a tall, young man with dark hair standing a respectful distance from them. He was dressed in the height of fashion, the formal, black clothing mirroring the black depths of his eyes. It took but a moment for the light of recognition to dawn in Gustave's eyes. He smiled and extended his hand. "Monsieur Deschene! I had not heard you were back in France."

"I arrived back but a week ago. I am only now able to find my way free to join society."

"Have you been to see Jean-Paul?"

"I have received a gracious note from his wife and I lunch at their home on Thursday next. I look forward to renewing my acquaintance with them both."

Annalise had been watching the exchange between the two men. A chord of memory was stirring in the back of her mind.

"My manners!" Gustave exclaimed. "Sir," he said taking Annalise by the hand, drawing her forward. "may I present my sister, Annalise." He smiled at Annalise as Michaud took her hand, bowing over it. "Annalise, Michaud Deschene. He was at school with Jean-Paul."

"You were but a child when I last I saw you," Michaud said fixing his gaze upon Annalise. "And now I find you a charming young woman. I hope I shall see more of you and your family." He let go of Annalise's hand and turned to Gustave. "I will not take any more of your time. Please extend my greetings to your esteemed parents." Michaud gave a final smile to Annalise before moving away, blending into the crowd.

"He's very handsome," Annalise told her brother.

"He does cut a figure," her brother had to admit.

It was a figure that cut its way through Paris society. Michaud Deschene, tall, dark and handsome, drew the sighs and longing looks of the young girls and the whispers and caresses of the older women. He knew just the right words to say, the right gestures. He was immensely polite and considerate. He was dashing and romantic with a layer of intensity just beneath the surface that so many found so attractive. Michaud did not play with anyone, leaving no broken hearts in his wake and that gave many an anxious parent pause for there was just no knowing what his intentions were. Paris thought it was because he had spent those long years in the hot sun of the Indies, fleeing there after the tragic fire that had claimed the lives of his parents. Paris thought his unending grief would not allow him to love again.

"Paris can think what it likes," Andrew told Gustave one afternoon as they walked through a park, their sisters a few steps ahead of them. "There is just something about that fellow that I mistrust. I don't wish to be rude because I know he is a friend of your family but I cannot rid myself of the notion that this Deschene fellow could be dangerous if crossed." The girls' laughter echoed back to them. "I know I will never allow Kitt to sit alone with him. And dancing, well, that will happen over my dead body."

"How very American of you," Gustave said. "Oh, do not look like a shocked prude! Dancing and sitting have never led to anyone being disgraced. It is the ritual of courtship. It is how we are allowed to meet members of the opposite sex until we find the one whom we are destined to marry. Surely you do these things in America or are you still suffering from Puritan tendencies?"

"I never said I did not approve of dancing or courtship!" Andrew exclaimed. "I have done my share of enjoying myself these last weeks, I'll admit that. I also have no problem with Kitt enjoying herself. Annalise has done so much to bring my sister out of her shell and I think that is wonderful. But there is just something about that guy that sets my nerves on edge."

Gustave had not been blind over the few months that he and Andrew had been chaperoning their sisters. He had seen how Andrew's eyes had changed when they looked at Annalise, now there was a deeper warmth there, more than just the warmth of friendship. And he could not help but to bring it up. "Is it the way that he looks at my sister that so grates on your nerves?"

"Perhaps," Andrew admitted grudgingly.

"What are they talking about?" Katherine asked as she glanced back over her shoulder. "Andrew looks like is going to stamp his foot!"

The girls giggled.

"I thought we were the only ones who stamped our feet when we did not get out way," Annalise replied. "I did not know boys could be so silly."

"I think it is just brothers," Katherine said. "Andrew has been so protective of late. First he wants me to stop being so shy and when I do finally try to be more open and friendly, he gets all agitated and won't let me out of his sight." She sighed. "I just don't understand him at times."

"Try having three brothers all attempting to keep you in their sight! I can never have a quiet conversation with a young man without one of them being near. How am I ever supposed to meet anyone and fall in love?"

Katherine lowered her eyes. "What about my brother?"

Annalise fixed her friend with a curious gaze. "I never thought about that." She glanced back over her shoulder. "He is certainly handsome."

"He likes you."

"And I like him." Annalise frowned. "Are you playing matchmaker?"

Katherine just smiled.

But once her friend had planted the thought, it was something that would not leave Annalise's mind. She found herself watching Andrew when he did not know. He was handsome and popular with both the young ladies and their mothers but did not seem to be aware of it. He was always polite to everyone, never refusing a request, never saying a harsh word. He always followed the proprieties as laid out by society. And when Andrew was with her, there was a gentleness in his eyes that Annalise knew he showed to no one else. It was all so very confusing. How could she know what to feel for him when so many other men were also clamoring for moment of her attention.

"I am too young," Annalise said out loud.

"Too young for what, my dear?" Raoul asked as he came into the library of their home to find his daughter resting her forehead against the fireplace mantle.

"Everything. Nothing." She shrugged. "I do not know."

Raoul walked over, placing his hands on his daughter's shoulders, turning her around to face him. "I think you have had, perhaps, a bit too much entertainment."

"Maybe," Annalise had to admit. "I am a bit tired, Father."

In his hands, Raoul held a note. "Would you care to spend a few weeks in the country with your great aunt, Adele? This is a letter from your aunt. It seems she has been a trifle unwell and while she is feeling better," Raoul held the note up. "She feels that she could do with some company to cheer her up. She would like you to come." He handed the note to his daughter.

Annalise studied the spidery writing for a moment before looking up. "I would like that very much."

Raoul took his daughter's hand. "Then it shall be done. A week or two of rest in the country will put the glow back your cheeks." Annalise blushed and dropped her head as her father chuckled. "You must be tired when you blush at a compliment from your own father. Come, let us go and gently break the news of your impending visit to your mother."

Annalise allowed her father to guide her out of the library, feeling a sense of relief begin to wash over her at the prospect of time away from the hectic whirl of Paris life. She needed quiet time to think.

Just some time to think.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Summary:** Annalise goes to the country to cheer an elderly relative and meets a strange, sad man in the woods.

CHAPTER FIVE

In the bucolic countryside a day's ride from the southern Paris gates, located just outside the market village of Saumur, stood the de Chagny country estate lovingly named _Tout Ce Qui Est_ - All That Is - by its new mistress some twenty-five years previously. The small stone chateau, surrounded by barns and dependencies, had been in the de Chagny family for almost seventy years, its farm functions managed by trusted retainers. The farm produced coveted cheeses year round, fruits and vegetables in season and there was even a small winery that provided family and friends with dark, fruity red vintages.

It had been to this gentleman's farm that Raoul and Christine had escaped after their wedding. The scandalous tragedy that had brought them together had still been too close to the surface for much of Paris society. Raoul could not bear to see the pain in his new wife's eyes as whispers followed them throughout the city; he had seen enough pain in her eyes to last him a lifetime. So it was that he had ordered their things packed and had taken his young wife into the countryside. Raoul hoped that Christine would find comfort in the peace and simplicity of country life and a friend in his Aunt Adele. Adele had lived at the estate since the early death of her own husband some twenty years before Raoul's own wedding to Christine. She, too, had been deemed to marry beneath her station but the intervening years had not found Adele willing to remarry thus putting to bed the gossip that she had not really loved the country squire she had taken to husband.

"I never did find out why my mother named this place All That Is," Annalise said to her great aunt as the two women rested in a sunny parlor. Annalise was sitting on the edge of the hearth, a sketchbook resting on her lap. She was studying her great aunt and placing her likeness upon the creamy paper.

Adele Fontanges looked up from her embroidery. She was nearing seventy, her dark hair now silver grey but the blue eyes held the same twinkle as that of the young woman seated on the opposite of the room. "Now you are asking me to tell tales - how do they say it - out of school."

Annalise put her sketching down, stood, crossed the room and knelt at Adele's feet, taking the old woman's hands in her own. "Oh please?" she asked, eyes wide and innocent. "I promise I shall never let Maman and Father discover that I learned one of their secrets. I just know it must be romantic. Please?"

Adele sighed, knowing she would give in to this slip of girl who knelt at her feet. "Alright, child," she said as she moved and patted the cushion of the loveseat. "Come and sit next to me and I shall tell you."

Annalise sat down up on the rich velvet upholstery, resting her head upon her aunt's thin shoulder.

"It was not long after your parents came here," Adele began. "I did not ask many questions because it was not my place as I have always felt rather like a guest in this house but I did notice that your mother would have nights where she was restless. I could hear your father's voice talking to her as they walked the hallways. I never wanted to know why, you understand. It was a few months before those nightly walks stopped." Adele stopped, closing her eyes, reaching back into her memory. "It was a day not unlike today," she continued, "and your parents had left early in the morning, a small basket packed with wine and cheese and fruits. I remember watching them ride into the fields and hoping the shadows around your mother's eyes would disappear. They came back very late that afternoon and I had not seen your mother with a smile that lovely since they had come to this place. I remember she was holding your father's hand and said that she could be content if this was all that would ever be." Adele patted her great-niece's cheek. "And that is how this place finally got a name."

Annalise sighed and blinked away tears. "Oh, I had a feeling ... Thank you," she said as she kissed Adele's cheek. "My parents hardly ever talk of when they were young and I never understood why." She thought for a moment. "I guess I will never understand."

"There are some things, child, which will always remain between the man and the woman in the marriage. Be content with that and with what I have told you." Adele blinked. "Now I grow tired and should like a nap." She reached for and rang a small bell on the table next to her. "Why do you not go into the gardens for some sun? It is far too lovely out for a young person to wait while an older one naps the hours away."

Annalise stood as the door opened and a maid walked in toward her great aunt. "I shall go and sketch the wildflowers to send with my next letter to Maman." She walked across the room and gathered her sketchbook into her arms.

"Do not stray far," Adele warned. "You are not familiar enough with the landmarks."

"I shall stay within sight of the house," Annalise promised with a smile as she walked out of the room.

Adele took the arm offered her, shaking her head. "I do not know why I try for she will not listen."

It was late June and summer was claiming its domain over the French countryside. Annalise walked through fields of bright wildflowers and up a small hill towards an inviting copse of trees that she had been studying from her bedroom window. The sketchpad had long been discarded beneath a garden bench. Blue flies buzzed lazily through the warm air, butterflies flitted amongst the waving stalks of the taller flowers. In the distance, Annalise could see the figures of herders standing amongst cows and sheep and goats, smoke rising from the ovens of the village. She stood still for a moment, closing her eyes and loving the feel of the sun through her light summer dress. A gentle wind blew past carrying with it the scent of roses, bringing a smile to Annalise's face.

She looked back over her shoulder, still able to see the family home, so she continued to walk up the small hill. As she approached the trees, Annalise stopped to get her breath. "That was further than I thought," she told a rabbit that poked its nose out from the high grass before scampering away. Her hand reached up for the buttons at the high collar of her dress. "No one is looking but God, right?" she asked as she looked up at the sky for an answer. "And You won't tell." Annalise undid the top four buttons of her collar, moving the light material away from her throat. Her hands then reached up and pulled out two long pins, allowing dark curls to fall loosely about her shoulders. "That's better," she said.

The woods looked cool and inviting. Annalise stood quietly for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before she saw a neglected, forgotten pathway worn into the grass and litter of previous years. A smile crossed her face as she began to follow it. She followed the pathway as it wound its way into the cool comfort of the sun-dappled shadows. Annalise could hear birds twittering away far up into the branches of the surrounding trees. She heard rustling in the undergrowth but did not fear whatever it was that might be causing the noises. It amazed her as she realized she could also hear the babbling of water as it flowed over stones. Annalise looked around and found a small stream that lead deeper into the woods and could not help but follow it.

"Oh," Annalise breathed as she drew up short, stopping in a sunny opening in the woods. A small spring bubbled in the middle of the green meadow and fed the stream that had led her here. "How pretty!" she exclaimed. A fallen tree trunk stood not far from the edge of the spring and Annalise walked over to sit upon it.

It was quiet, there, next to the spring, the trees muting the noise from the surrounding woods. It was still and peaceful and Annalise could hear her heart beating. It was moment of grace in which she had a glimpse into the peace and comfort this place had given her mother when she had not been much older. A wave of emotion washed over Annalise and she lifted her eyes toward the sky. "Thank You," she breathed as she tried to remember the hymn that Katherine had taught her. A gentle smile crossed Annalise's lips as the words came back to her. Annalise's voice was young and clear and strong as the words of "It Is Well With My Soul" carried her thanks up to the doors of heaven.

"You sing like an angel," a voice seemed to echo in her head.

Annalise stood quickly, a hand drawing her collar closed, as she turned to find the speaker of those words. "Oh my God," she tried as she noticed the owner of the voice, her eyes widening in horror, both hands going over her mouth. She began to involuntarily back away but was stopped by the fallen tree trunk she had suddenly forgotten.

A man dressed entirely in black stood before her. He rested lightly on the cane he held in his left hand. He appeared to be not much older than her father, yet his hair - where it covered his head - was a startling shade of white. He had the most intense dark eyes that Annalise had ever seen but it was his face that so startled and frightened her. One side of his face was disfigured, the skin red and irritated. It was a sight the likes of which the protected young girl had never seen before.

The man looked at her sadly and turned. "My pardon, mademoiselle, I shall leave."

"No, please," Annalise managed as she held out a hand to him. "I did not ... I was not ... You startled me. Please stay, I shall leave."

"Do not go child," the man told her. "I mean you no harm." He waved a hand about him. "These woods are the border on my land. I often walk here and when I heard your voice I thought that God had at last returned my angel to me. I did not mean to frighten you. I only wished to listen to your song."

Annalise thought it odd that the man was looking at her as if his heart would break. "You are my great-aunt's neighbor," she ventured softly, still unable to take her eyes from the man's face, remembering the village tales of a man who lived like a hermit, locked away in the ruins of a small, old monastery.

"Yes, I am Erik," he hesitated for a moment. "Erik Lachaise. Please, child, sit" the man motioned towards the downed tree. He watched as she slowly resumed her seat. "I shall remain here at the edge of the light, a distance that should let you know you are safe with me. Although, I believe I am old enough to be your father and, thus, should cause you no concern. I am sorry my face frightens you."

Annalise continued to study his face, finally lowering her eyes, unable to understand the emotions his gaze stirred within her. "It is I who should apologize. My manners are deplorable. My parents would be disappointed with me and I am mortified."

"I do not believe that any parent would be disappointed with such a charming young lady."

Annalise raised her head, determination in her blue eyes. She felt that this strange, deformed man was laughing at her - it was something to which she was not accustomed. "It did frighten me at first but you startled me."

Erik smiled at the girl seated on the tree trunk. "You were in trespassing in my woods, Mademoiselle de Chagny."

"You know me?"

"This is a small town," Erik told her. "There is nothing that one does not hear. I knew of your coming before you even arrived. I also have my servant stop a few times a week to check on your great-aunt to ensure that she is well. Everyone is very fond of her, you see. She has been a gracious neighbor to this village."

Annalise brightened. "Did you know my parents when they lived here?"

"No. I have never had the pleasure," he lied to her. "I came to live here not long after your parents had returned to Paris."

"Oh," Annalise replied with a touch of disappointment. There was something in the man's voice that also bespoke of disappointment.

"But I have seen your parents from a distance when they would bring you and your brothers to this place for visits. You have a great look of your mother about you."

"Thank you," Annalise smiled softly at this strange man who was looking at her as if he wanted to cry. "I always wanted to be as beautiful as my mother." She studied his deformed face, always being drawn back to those eyes that spoke volumes. Even with the inexperience of her youth, Annalise knew she was being allowed a glimpse into a soul that was torn and tortured. Yet she had no fear of this man. There was something about him that made her want to hold and comfort him the way her parents would hold and comfort her.

"You are welcome," Erik told her. "May I ask if your great-aunt is on the mend? Her recent chill was of great concern to all."

"She is feeling much better," Annalise assured him. "I came to stay with her and cheer her as she regains her strength. May I give her your regards?"

"Please, I should be honored." Erik realized what he had said. "But do not say they came from me. Say they came from my servant."

"But why?" Annalise looked puzzled.

Erik managed a short, somewhat bitter laugh. "I am thought of in the village as a bit of an eccentric and I should wish to maintain that image."

Annalise's eyes twinkled and she was amazed to see the change of expression on Erik's visage. The bitterness was fading, replaced by amusement. "I promise I shall not tell. It will be like our own private mystery and we are the only ones who hold the key."

Erik laughed delightedly this time. "A mystery it is to be, then. Are you to grace our simple village long?"

"Another fortnight, I believe."

"Well, Mademoiselle de Chagny, should you ever find you wish to wander through my woods again, I shall be pleased. It is not often that such a lovely creature graces my simple land."

"Shall you be here?" Annalise asked with a tilt of her head.

"I am always here," Erik bowed to her. "Perhaps we shall meet again."

Annalise watched as he disappeared from sight into the shadows of the woods. She sat silently for a moment, listening to her thoughts, struggling to understand the emotions this man stirred within her. She did not believe the tales of the village children who said he was evil and would lock you away in his dungeon. That was not the man she had just met. This man, Erik, seemed to be sad and lonely. Annalise thought he had looked at her almost as if he was burning her image into his memory. She sighed and shook her head - it was all too much for her to think upon at the moment. Annalise stood and smiled her goodbye into the woods before walking the other way, back towards her family's estate.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Summary:** Erik remembers his life since leaving Paris twenty-six years ago, mourning Christine and marveling at her daughter. Raoul and Christine get a letter from their daughter.

CHAPTER SIX

Her image haunted him.

It had haunted him from the very first moment he had seen the tiny child lighting a candle and whispering prayers to a God he was not sure even existed. He had marveled at her grief for a dead person and wondered if it was possible to truly love that deeply. He had tried to guide her, help her grow, realize the potential only he had seen, all the while hoping that she would guide him, teach him what it meant to love enough to be able to shed tears for another being. He felt he had come so close, the prize within his reach when that other man had blundered in to his domain. This interloper had claimed the heart he, himself, had ached for, desired, needed. It was something he would not understand until that moment when she had been willing to do anything to save that other man's life. He remembered as their lips parted, her eyes beseeching him, that his broken heart had come together only to break again.

At that moment he had become human.

Now a quarter of century since she had placed her ring in his hand, walking away into her future with that other man, her image still followed his every waking and sleeping moment. She had been there as he hid in the caverns under the opera house, in the tunnels under Paris amongst the bones of the dead. She had followed him as he sailed from France to the New World in an attempt to escape from memories almost too much to bear. Her face was never far from him as he wandered strange lands, no longer covering his own visage, allowing the world to see, to know, to feel his pain, the pain every person kept hidden within their souls. He had eventually returned to France years later when the events he had triggered were no longer a vivid memory but a scandal to be whispered behind closed salon doors.

He had known she and that other man owned property in the country so he had sought it out. He had thought God finally smiled upon him when the neglected property next to the fine estate had been for sale. What remained of his ... salary ... long secreted in the caverns under the ruined opera house was enough to buy the small dark monastery turning it into a passable home - the first home he could remember.

He remembered when word had reached him that she was to visit the estate next door. He remembered walking to the edge of the woods everyday, standing in the shadows hoping for just a glimpse of her. He remembered the day he had finally seen her, three young boys running around her, their laughter carried up to him. Years in the dark had not dimmed his sight so much that he could not see she was with child again and he wondered what it would have been like to watch her carry his child. Wondered what it would be like to place his hands on her swollen belly and feel the life moving beneath the skin. He wondered if the child she carried would be another son that looked like that man or a daughter that would have her soft dark hair and large, glowing eyes.

Now he no longer wondered and another image had come to haunt him.

He had stood within the shadows of the woods and watched her as she had sat upon the fallen tree trunk, deep in thought, studying the path he had used in walking away from her. There was no escaping the fact that she had her mother's incredible eyes for even from the where he stood, he could see the emotions racing through their depths. A brief moment of jealous anger had surged through him when he wondered why her eyes were not darkly colored like those of her mother but blue like the eyes of that man. It was only a moment, though, for this young girl had awakened in him something he thought he had buried long ago.

She had stirred the sleeping embers of his heart.

Erik ran a thin finger over the velvety petal of a red rose, one of many kept in vases throughout his home. "Oh, Christine," he sighed. "My angel is the mother of an angel. She is as lovely as you." Erik hung his head. "I wish she could have been ours," he whispered.

He looked up as the thunder boomed, rain beginning to beat against the glass of the windowpanes. Erik was not sure if it was the rain or the tears that blurred his vision, melting and swirling the image of mother into daughter and daughter into mother.

"Christine, Christine," he whispered.

"Christine, Christine," a voice called out to her. It echoed down long dark corridors, always surrounding her but never within reach. "Christine, Christine," it sang to her as she tried to run, never able to escape the reach of the echo. "Christine," the voice called in a more insistent tone as it finally reached out from the darkness to grab her.

"No!" she cried out, flailing her hands against the horrors of the night.

"Christine!" a familiar, comforting voice called to her.

Christine opened her eyes, unsure of where she was, unsure of who was calling out to her. Then she saw the gentle blue eyes in front of her face, the strong hands holding on to her own shaking ones. "Raoul," she breathed, taking her hands from his light clasp so she could throw her arms around his neck, drawing him close. "Raoul," she said into the collar of his jacket, the familiar scent of his cologne helping to bring her back to herself.

"You were dreaming, _ma mie_," he whispered to her, caressing the back of her neck, trying to stop the shudders he felt shaking her thin frame. "It was only a dream." He drew back, taking her face in his hands. "This time it was only a dream."

Christine allowed herself to be drawn into her husband's soothing gaze. She felt the racing of her heart slow, her breathing ease and the tension flow from her shoulders as Raoul gently held her. Christine rubbed her cheek against the soft hand that held it and managed a small smile. Her smile broadened and she took a deep breath as she watched the concern drain from Raoul's expression.

"Better?" he asked.

"I did not mean to frighten you," Christine said as she looked around, trying to gather her thoughts. She was seated in her withdrawing room and must have fallen asleep to the sound of the rain outside.

Raoul got off his knees and sat next to his wife. Christine moved his arms so that she could lean against his side, resting her ear against the comforting beat of his heart. "I not did mean to startle you from your rest," Raoul told her. He smiled as he reached into his pocket. "But I thought you would like to see this."

Christine lifted her head to see a white envelope in her husband's hand, the last of the darkness left her eyes as she recognized the flowery handwriting. "Annalise," she breathed. She looked up at Raoul before settling her head back on his chest. "Read it me, please."

Raoul opened the envelope, taking out the letter, holding it in one hand as he put the other hand and arm back around his wife. "Beloved Family," Raoul began, "I am so pleased to tell you that Great-aunt Adele is feeling more like herself every day. Yesterday she even managed to coax the staff into serving us luncheon in the garden."

"I wonder who really did the coaxing," Christine said softly.

Raoul smiled and continued, "While she is feeling much better, she still naps daily but has promised me that such is the way with old ladies and young babes. While Great-aunt Adele sleeps I have been outside in the warm air, walking in the fields, sketching the flowers, petting the farm animals and always within vision of Father's retainers just so that I will not get a scolding from Maman when I return home."

"Wise child," Christine commented.

"I finally managed to convince the vintner to show me just how the wine is made," Raoul went on, "but I am afraid he was a bit reluctant at first. I do not think he felt it proper to show a young lady such things but I convinced him that Father would not frown upon this." Raoul chuckled. "It is all so fascinating to learn new things and to meet new people. Monsieur Pfieffer, the priest in the village, has been so very kind to me and has escorted me around the village twice now. I have purchased lovely things for everyone that I shall bring back with me but I'll not tell what they are for that would ruin the secret."

"Where did she get the money from?" Christine wondered. When there was no answer, she lifted her head to look at her husband. "Raoul?" There was still no answer and Christine shook her head before laying it back down. "You are both impossible."

"I miss Paris very much," Raoul resumed reading, "and cannot wait to see everyone again. I have been writing to Katherine. We are in agreement that we look forward to going out again when I return. She tells me she has had many invitations but misses my company. I shall tell you that I miss her as well. I have loved my time in the country and Great-aunt Adele is always such pleasant company but now I am rested and looking forward to being back in the loving arms of family and friends. I must go now for it is almost time for luncheon and then I shall take a walk this afternoon. I promise I shall write again tomorrow. Give my love to my darling brothers and their sweet wives. Kiss Chloe and Bertrand for me. And, always and forever, all my love to my most precious parents - Annalise. PS - I almost forgot; I am enclosing sketches for Maman. I hope she likes them."

Christine sat up. "Sketches?"

Raoul placed the letter down and picked up the envelope once again. He opened it and drew out several small pieces of paper. Christine reached up a hand and her husband handed the small sketches over to her. Christine held the drawings so that both she and Raoul could look at them. They were fine pencil sketches of wild lilies, jack-in-the-pulpit, dandelions and violets. Annalise had carefully lettered each drawing, adding her name and date in the bottom corner.

"She is very talented," Christine said.

Raoul kissed his wife's hair. "She is your daughter. I would expect nothing less."

"Not like that, Raoul. Never like that," Christine told him with a shake of her head.

Raoul sighed. "Christine, there is nothing to fear. Annalise has a fine eye for placing images on paper. And we have given her lessons on the piano and Madame Giry was gracious enough to give her private ballet lessons." He smiled at the memory. "I shall always treasure the sight of you and Meg and little Annalise going through the graceful movements. She always tried so hard to do just as you and Meg did. And she sings like an angel." Raoul touched his wife's chin so that she would like at him. "That is where it stops, Christine. Her teachers have all been gracious, loving people. And what Annalise does or does not do with what she has learned shall be her decision and she will do it for the simple joy of doing it."

"I know this," Christine assured him, "but there are times when I just ... I just ... I wish I could take her and put her in a glass case where no harm could come to her. Raoul, she is such a babe!"

"You were not much older when we married," he reminded her.

"But I was much older in so many ways." Christine sighed. "Annalise has had the protection of two parents and a safe home. She has not had a care in the world and that makes her vulnerable to the horrors that this world can bring."

Raoul drew his wife into his arms, holding her close. "Christine, it has been twenty-six years since those things happened. Those horrors are gone." He felt her stiffen. "I know that you still feel them, still remember. I have not forgotten, either; but you must not think that the same thing will happen to Annalise. She may look like you and be gifted with a voice that is surely your legacy to her but she is not you. She is a bright young woman with the future just opening up before her. And I promise you that we shall do everything within our power to ensure that there are no shadows in her future."

"Promise me that, Raoul." Christine looked at her husband, pleading with him. "Promise me. Promise me that my daughter will never see the shadows that we have both seen."

"Christine," Raoul said softly, "I make you the same promise now that I made that night in the snow and the promise I made to Annalise that first afternoon I held her - I promise to guard you both. I will not let the shadows touch either of you."

"If it were only that easy," Christine whispered almost to herself. And more loudly, "Thank you." She smiled at him. "I know we are a trial to you."

"When you love someone as much as I love the both of you, it is never a trial."

"I shall hold you to that when there are serious suitors at our door asking for your permission to court our daughter."

"No one is going to be good enough," Raoul told her.

"Perhaps she can find someone like you," Christine replied, emotions flooding her luminous eyes. "I think I should rest easy if that were to happen."

"We have done well together, have we not?"

"We have." Christine sighed. "I have been happy with you. You have been patient and kind, giving me safety and comfort and shelter. You have given me four children I love beyond words. And you have loved me without asking for anything in return." Christine reached up for a kiss allowing her lips to linger. "I could not have asked for more," she said as they finally broke apart.

"You have always had my heart." Raoul replied knowing that there was one thing for which his wife could have asked but never did. Yet that unspoken request faded from his mind as he felt himself drowning in the depths of his wife's eyes. "Christine, I love you."

"Stay with me, Raoul," Christine said as she once again laid her head upon his chest, drawing his arms around her. "Just stay with me," she breathed softly.

Raoul sat quietly, his arms around his wife, feeling her breathing slow and deepen into the familiar pattern of a peaceful sleep. He sighed and kissed her head, listening to the rain as it beat against the window glass in time with the breathing of the woman in his arms.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Summary:** Erik and Annalise spend summer afternoons together, a bond forming between them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next two weeks passed by quickly for Annalise. In the morning she would breakfast in her room before sitting down to write her parents, sending one of the retainers to post the letter on the noontime coach. She would then read to her great-aunt or play the piano before luncheon after which Adele would retire for an afternoon nap. It was at that timewhen Annalise would escape from the confines of the house to wander the gardens. She always stayed within sight of the house until she was sure that Adele would be sleeping at which point Annalise would meander towards the woods at the top of the hill, knowing that the strange man with the sad eyes would be there waiting for her.

"Monsieur Lachaise," she had said the third day that they met.

"Erik, Mademoiselle, just Erik," he had told her, finally smiling at her without any sadness or bitterness.

From that moment forward they had only addressed each other by first names, a bond growing between them that Annalise did not understand and Erik had no need to manipulate.

"You have spoken warmly of your time spent here," Erik addressed Annalise one afternoon as they sat on the fallen tree trunk near the hidden spring. Annalise had her face turned towards the sun, eyes closed, a smile on her lips. Erik found he could now look at this young woman without having his heart torn in two. "Yet I know little of your family."

Annalise's smile grew larger. She lowered her face, opening her eyes, turning to look at the man seated next to her. "What would you wish to know?"

Slowly, Erik thought, slowly. He had waited all these years for news of his beloved angel; he could afford to wait a little while longer. "Tell me of your brothers," he replied.

So he had listened as she described her brothers.

"Jean-Paul is the eldest," Annalise began. "Being the eldest child and the oldest son means he can be a bit strict at times. We used to tease him when we were small that he thought he was Father and we would always say "yes sir" and "no sir" to him." She laughed softly at the memory, a sound that thrilled Erik. "Then we would run away so he could not catch us and give us a thrashing."

"I do not think he would ... er ... thrash you."

"No," Annalise agreed. "He would never have done such a thing but he would give me one of these looks." She turned to Erik, putting her fingers at the sides of her lips, pulling them down and knitting her finely arched eyebrows into a frown. "And I would laugh at him because he looked so silly. He would get frustrated with me and he would say he was going to tell Maman and then I would go running after him, begging him to not tell." Her eyes grew soft. "I never wanted to have my mother angry with me." Her tone was affectionate. "None of us ever did."

It was all Erik could not to let his breath escape in a huge sigh. "Of what is this brother like now?"

"Still serious, still very much trying to be Father. He is going to inherit the title, after all, and he wants to make Father proud of him." Annalise grinned widely. "And the best thing is that he and his wife had a little boy two years ago. His name is Bertrand and he has his mother's red hair and he laughs at everything!"

A grandmother? Christine was a grandmother? Erik thought, a sharp pain stabbing him in the heart. It could not be possible! Not his sweet angel!

"M'sieur?" Annalise said as she extended a hand to the suddenly stricken man next to her. "Are you alright?"

"Erik, child, just Erik," he told her. He had not wanted to frighten her but had not been prepared for what she had told him. "I am afraid I grow tired." He reached over to lightly touch her hand, the feel of it so much like another hand he had once held. "May we continue this tomorrow?"

"But, of course," Annalise replied, laying her free hand over the one he had placed on hers.

Erik had gone back to his home only to sit up all night, deep in thought, memories clamoring for a place in the crowded corridors of his mind. He looked down at his hands, the very hands that had once held Christine in such a loving manner only to turn on her when he felt she had betrayed him. Now this child, this daughter, was within his reach, touching him without fear or pity and all he could do was let her.

All he could was let her.

"What of your other brothers?" Erik had asked the next day. He had wanted to cry when he found his angel's daughter there, in the woods, waiting for him, concerned for his health. She had stood and walked over to him when he had emerged from his pathway, taking his arm, guiding him to the fallen tree, helping him to sit, keeping her arm intertwined with his. She was so sweet and so gentle and so innocent - so much like her mother.

"Well," Annalise began. "There is Richard and he is two years younger than Jean-Paul. He is quiet and serious. He always got the best grades at school. Yet he was the one who had the most patience with me when I was a small child. He never yelled at me like Jean-Paul or got me into trouble like Gustave."

"Gustave? That is your other brother?" Erik was surprised to see a blush creep into Annalise's cheeks.

"Will you promise not tell a secret?" she asked him.

Erik laid a hand over his heart. "I promise."

"I love all my brothers with all my heart. They look out for me and are very kind to me but Gustave is my favorite brother."

Erik patted the hand resting on his arm. "I shall not tell but in return you must finish telling me of this middle brother, Richard."

"He, too, is married." Annalise twinkled merrily. "And he and his wife also have a baby."

Erik felt the pain stabbing him in his heart again. She had another grandchild, yet another offering of faith that there would be a future for her family. Where was his promise to the future?

"They have a little girl named Chloe. She does not do much but smile and gurgle. She is only a few months old, you see."

"Your family is truly blessed," Erik managed to get the words out without letting his tone of voice betray the bitterness and disappointment that never seemed to leave his soul no matter the joy illuminating the soul's darkness.

It was another summer afternoon. Another few hours to spend in the company of the daughter Erik wished were his own.

"Gustave is named after my mother's father," Annalise was telling him. "Maman has told us her father was a great violinist. She has taken us to visit his tomb in the cemetery."

Erik stopped breathing for a moment at the mention of that cemetery. He could still feel the chill of that long ago winter. He could still see his angel, dressed in black, a living shadow against the early morning stillness. He could still hear the sound of swords clashing, the cry of pain as steel ripped flesh and the echo of hoof beats as she had fled with that man. Erik was certain that Christine had never told her daughter of that trip to the cemetery. Perhaps, he thought, it was just as well.

"And Gustave plays the violin, as well," Annalise was continuing. "Maman says he is almost as good as her father. I think one of my favorite things to do is to play the piano while Gustave plays the violin. I know that it makes my mother smile."

Erik was amazed. He had not thought that man would understand or allow creative freedom. "You have music in your home?"

"We have always had music in our home. My mother has a voice that is truly a gift from the angels."

At least one angel, Erik thought.

"She does not sing very much anymore." Annalise thought for a moment. "Well, she does not sing much except for us. One of the first things I can remember is sitting in Maman's lap while she sang to me. She sings while we are in church, of course." She turned to look at Erik. "Did you know she sang at the opera before she married my father?"

"How fascinating," Erik said softly. "Does your favorite brother sing, as well?"

"He tries but he is much better at the violin," Annalise laughed. "And he is very good at keeping my secrets. I keep his, too, you know. We know things about each other that our parents will never know. Well, at least we do not think they know."

"You are very close to him, yes?"

"Very close for we are only two years apart and by the time I was old enough to really appreciate the fact that I had older brothers to play with, Jean-Paul and Richard were already at school most of the day. That left Gustave and I to be playmates and he was always ready to humor me and my wild fantasies about dragons and fairies and oh, so many things!"

"I am glad you have this companion, Annalise," Erik told her. "It is always wise to have one person to whom you can entrust your deepest secrets."

"Did you ever have someone you could trust?" Annalise wondered as she watched the sky. It was growing late in the afternoon and dark clouds were gathering overhead.

Erik, too, had seen the dark clouds when he had left that morning to join the daughter of his heart for their daily talk. Now the dark clouds had descended and were covering his soul. "Once there was someone I loved dearly but she is lost to me now." Erik sighed. "She has been gone many years."

Annalise rested her head on his shoulder; it was all Erik could do to not to jump through his skin. "I am very sorry. It must be very sad for you. I do not know what would happen to my father if something were to happen to Maman. It would break his heart, I think."

It had finally come down to this. Erik did not wish to hear about that man but could find no way to avoid it. He knew he could listen as Annalise talked about him for that would mean that soon he would be able to hear more about her mother, his beloved Christine.

"Your parents are happy, than?" Erik asked as he watched Annalise dip thin hands into the clear spring, raising the water to her lips. Once again the sun had come out, smiling down upon the French countryside. So why did Erik feel like the darkness was closing in upon him?

Annalise turned and walked back to the fallen tree trunk, sitting down next to Erik and smiling her thanks as he handed her a handkerchief with which to dry her hands. She went to hand it back and he pressed it into her hands.

"A memento of our time together," he told her and was rewarded with a bright smile as Annalise tucked the fine, embroidered linen into the belt of her skirt.

"Thank you, I shall hold it dear." Annalise sighed. "I think my parents have been very happy together. I do not think I have ever heard my father raise his voice to my mother. I know that there are times when I see him looking at her and there is something in his eyes that I do not understand. My Great-aunt Adele says I should not worry over it as there are things in marriage that will always remain secret."

"She is a very wise woman." Erik could not bear the thought that this child who accepted him without question would ever learn anything that would cause her to turn from him. He knew it would destroy him should that happen.

"Yes," Annalise agreed, "she is very wise." She tilted her head and a sweet smile crossed her face. "I think it is a family trait. My father is also very wise. He has always been there for me. He would kiss away my hurts when I was small and he listens to my concerns now that I grow older. He taught me to ride and made sure I had the best schooling." She giggled. "Father made me recite my lessons so that he knew I was not wasting my time and that I would be as educated as my brothers. He also convinced Maman to give me dance and piano lessons but she would not let me have voice lessons. That was one of the few times I can ever remember Father not being able to get round Maman. It is another of those things that I do not understand." She sighed happily. "I love my father. He lets my soul run free."

It had never occurred to Erik that that man would ever think to let this happy girl's soul run free. He had expected some aristocratic, authoritarian despot ruling over his angel's children's lives, ruling over his angel. He had not expected that man to be so understanding, so open. He had thought that Annalise's joy in life had come only from her mother, his angel, and not from her father. It was an idea he could not comprehend, his sight colored by years of hurt and resentment towards that other man.

It was their last day together for Annalise had told him that she would be going home the next day. Now, he could finally ask about his angel, his beloved Christine. "And what of your mother; what is she like?"

"My mother is so wonderful," Annalise told him. Erik noticed the tears at the corners of her eyes. "I do not know how to describe her to you." She thought quietly for a moment. "She is very beautiful with a very gentle spirit. I do not think she has ever raised her voice to any of us and I know that we never want to give her reason. We all adore her, you see. I do not think I could have asked for a better mother. She is very strict with me but I do give her reason at times, I am afraid. I think she just wants the best for me, for all of us."

"As any parent of such a charming family would, I am sure," Erik replied, secure in the knowledge that, at least, his angel was happy in her children. He could not bear to think about her marriage, her life with that other man, their days ... their nights. His fantasy, his dreams would rest in the thoughts that this girl next to him was their daughter, their very own angel.

"I must go," Annalise told him, looking at the watch hanging on a chain around her neck. She turned large, tear-filled eyes towards him. "I ..." she tried, her voice catching in her throat. Suddenly her arms were around him. "I shall miss you!"

Erik was too stunned to react. How many years had he longed for someone to reach out for him without coercion? How many were the nights when he had dreamed what it would be like to have someone accept him without question, without fear and loathing? Now, here was this girl, her arms wrapped warmly about him, a gesture of acceptance and friendship given freely and of her own accord.

"I shall miss you, as well," Erik finally managed as he reached to pat Annalise on the back. He was committing the feel of her in his arms to memory. It frightened him how much he longed for the embrace to continue so he broke it, gently holding Annalise by the arms, reaching in to kiss her lightly on the forehead. His heart soared at the same moment it was breaking when she did not flinch from the touch of his lips. He stood, offering her his hand. "Come I shall walk you to the edge of the woods."

They walked hand-in-hand through the woods, silent in their companionship and in their sorrow at parting.

"May I write to you," Annalise asked as they reached the edge of the woods that would take her home.

How Erik was tempted to say yes to that simple request! "I think not, Annalise," he told her instead. "Let us keep these weeks as our secret time," he reached out to touch her cheek; "a time when a lonely old man was visited by an angel." Erik raised one of her hands to his lips. "And let us say _adieu_ and not _au revoir_ for, perhaps, we shall meet again. Now go, child."

He watched as Annalise studied his face, giving him a gentle smile before walking out of the woods and into the sunshine. He watched from the shadows as she moved down the small hill, stopping halfway down, suddenly breaking into a run. He wondered at that until he directed his gaze towards the direction in which she ran. There, at the edge of the estate gardens, stood a tall man with sandy brown hair, his arms opening wide and closing as Annalise ran into them. He spun her around, finally letting her down and kissing her on the cheek. It was an image all too familiar and too painful to Erik.

He turned on his heel and walked back into the shadows.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Summary:** Annalise finds herself torn between two different men and turns to Christine for advice and guidance.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The summer morning dawned bright and hot, the air of Paris heavy with a promise of rain to come. Even the birds in the trees sang their songs in a slow and lazy manner. Annalise looked up from her dressing table, her sketchbook in front of her, to pull back the curtain hanging limply in the window in hopes of catching even a hint of a breeze. She turned back to look at her drawing and smiled. It was a nice likeness of Erik, she thought. She had drawn his profile, capturing the strong bone structure of his face and was wondering if she could take the half and make a whole perfect image. She had just lifted her pencil when a knock came at her door.

"May I come in?" she heard her mother ask.

Annalise quickly closed her sketchbook. "The door is open, Maman."

The door opened and Christine walked into the room. She was dressed in white muslin, her dark curls tied loosely at the nape of her neck. "You are not going out with Katherine today?"

"No. Gustave is going to escort me to Lady Willingham's dance tonight so I thought I would spend the day at home." Annalise told her. "Katherine is going to be there tonight and we have promised to find some time just for ourselves to catch up on ... oh ... many things! I do not think we have had time to truly talk quietly since I came home."

"I am not surprised," Christine told her daughter. "You have barely been home two nights since you came back three weeks ago. I know it would please your father if you were to find the time to dine with us."

Annalise smiled at her mother. "I shall be at home tomorrow evening and I promise my time shall be only for you and Father."

"You and I have not had time to truly talk quietly, either. I wonder if you have been trying to avoid me."

She had been trying to avoid her mother only because Annalise wanted to protect Erik and their secret meetings and she knew she would never have been able to lie to her mother. "Would you like to talk now?" she asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Christine walked over to where her daughter sat, placing her hands on the child's shoulders. "I would like that. It shall almost be like when you were a small girl and you would sit by my side and tell me everything you had done that day." She sighed. "I miss those times and that little girl." Mother and daughter looked at their reflections in the mirror in front of them. "You have grown so fast." Christine ran a hand down her daughter's dark hair. "I no longer see a pretty child before me but a lovely young lady."

Annalise felt the tears sting her eyes, her hand reaching up to touch the one hand that still rested on her shoulder. "Maman ..."

Christine patted her daughter's hand. "Come, let me dress your hair and while I do so you can tell me what it is you have been doing."

Annalise handed her mother a brush. "What should you like to know?" Her huge eyes twinkled. "I ought to say what would you like to know that you have not heard from my brothers?"

"Consider yourself blessed, my dear, to have brothers to love and watch out for you. Hand me a pin."

A pin exchanged hands and Christine expertly tucked the curl into place. "I know they love me and I do not wish to seem flippant. There are times when I am glad they are there to watch for me."

"I know that they keep all the young beaux seeking your attention at a respectful distance." Annalise saw her mother's reflection smile at her. "Do not look so surprised! Even if you did not have brothers, word of the young men who have danced with you and sat with you and tried to make love to you would reach my ears. You will be a wealthy young woman when you marry so mothers of daughters eye you with envy and mothers of sons eye you with longing. Mothers talk, my dear."

"I wish you would not say such things!" Annalise angrily spat out.

"Annalise!" There was a lock of shock on Christine's face.

Annalise turned quickly to face her mother, her hair only half-finished. "How did you know?" she demanded.

"How did I know what?" Christine appeared puzzled.

"How did you know that it was Father you loved and wanted to marry?" Annalise watched as some of the delicate color left her mother's cheeks.

Christine looked down at the brush in her hands, unwilling to meet her daughter's angry gaze for fear of revealing a secret she had promised never to tell. "There was a moment when your father was willing to do something for me that no one else had ever been willing to do before or has been willing to do since. That was the moment I knew I truly loved him and that was the moment I made my choice," she replied in a soft, almost haunted tone of voice.

Regretting her outburst, Annalise reached out a hand to her mother. "What did he offer to do?"

Christine shook her head. "No. Perhaps I shall tell you someday but not now. There are things that are best left in the past." Christine took the hand offered and sat next to her daughter on the padded bench. "Now, why do you ask?"

Annalise dropped her eyes, the color rising in her cheeks.

"Is there someone your father and I ought to know about?"

There was someone; in fact, there were two someones Annalise felt pulling her in very opposite directions.

Christine touched her daughter's chin, raising her face so that Annalise was looking into her mother's eyes. "I know that Katherine's brother, Andrew, is very fond of you and I know that Jean-Paul's friend, Michaud, has also been paying a good deal of attention to you." Christine smiled gently at her daughter. "Mothers are not the only ones who talk. Your brothers have not been blind. They have seen how often those young men dance with you, speak with you, how they would ask about you while you were in the country. It does not require any knowledge of love to know that each of these young men would find something desirable in you."

"They are so different, though, Maman!" Annalise searched her mother's face. "Andrew is forward and honest and speaks his mind. It confuses me because that is how my brothers treat me and I did not think that is how a lover was supposed to behave." She stood and walked over the window, leaning against the sash, playing absent-mindedly with the curls that still hung down. "Michaud is sweet and gentle and speaks softly to me." She turned to look back at her mother. "Daughters can speak as well as mothers and we are not blind, either. I know that all the young woman my age think he is dashing and romantic and acts just how a lover should act." Annalise sighed and walked back to sit next to her mother. "And I do not know what to think! This is my first full season out and I am so confused. I need your help!"

Emotions raced quickly across Christine's face, confusing her daughter further. "I will tell you one thing and that is that no one needs to pressure you to make your decision." Christine reached out to touch her daughter's forehead. "Know you own mind, my dear." She moved her hand down to her daughter's heart. "And follow your heart." She touched her daughter's cheek. "And always remember that whatever you decide; to fall in love, to marry, to enjoy your youth, your father and I will support whatever decision is made, as long as you make that decision freely and without coercion."

Mother and daughter looked at each other for a long moment, Christine trying to tell secrets without betrayal; Annalise struggling to understand the pain and longing in her mother's eyes. Christine finally broke the silence by standing.

"Hand me another pin so that I can finish your hair," she told Annalise, "or your maid shall be doing it all afternoon and you know how irritated your brother can become when you run late." Christine took the pin her daughter handed her, allowing her hand to linger for moment. "Promise me you shall think before you make any decision."

"I promise," Annalise replied softly.

It was a promise that Annalise was finding she had no trouble keeping as she was whirled gracefully around the dance floor at Lord and Lady Willingham's Paris townhouse.

"You are deep in thought," Andrew told her with a smile.

Annalise smiled back at him. "It is a promise I made to my mother. I promised her I shall always think."

"What are you thinking about?"

How Annalise wished Andrew would have added, "Are you thinking about me?"! Instead she just gave him a soft smile as the Viennese waltz swelled around them, carrying them out onto the balcony. The air was still heavy with humidity, the scent of roses mingling with the smoke from the gas lamps. They stopped dancing, Andrew taking Annalise's hand, leading her towards the balustrade where they looked out upon the garden, a fountain splashing merrily somewhere in the darkness.

"You never answered my question," Andrew told her. "What are you thinking about?"

Annalise breathed in the scented air, a deep sigh escaping her lips. "I am thinking how wonderful it is to feel like this!"

"Like what?"

"Happy, floating, swept away by the music," Annalise looked into Andrew's eyes, "loving the feel of the arms around me."

Andrew reached out to touch the dance card that hung from Annalise's wrist. "I wish my arms were the only ones that you would feel tonight."

"Do you?"

"You know I do."

"How would I know?" Annalise asked him.

Andrew looked deeply into those blue eyes before releasing the hand he held. "Because I told you and when you are ready to admit that you feel the same way, I will be here."

"Feel what?"

Andrew touched her cheek, shaking his head. "You are such a child, sometimes, Annalise. And I am sure there is another name of a young man on your dance card whose arms are waiting for you. I'll not make them wait any longer."

"Andrew ..." Annalise said as he turned and re-entered the brightly lit ballroom. She watched as he stopped to say something to Gustave before disappearing into the crowd gathering on the dance floor. "Andrew ...," she whispered to herself.

"I believe this is my dance, mademoiselle," Annalise heard a voice say. She turned to find Michaud Deschene standing at her elbow. "Or do find yourself in need of a cavalier?" he asked, a smile on his face.

"I would like to dance," Annalise told him, taking the hand he extended.

"Then dance we shall most certainly do," Michaud told her, sweeping her up into his arms, moving them slowly as another waltz began. He danced them faster as the music picked up its pace, rising and falling with the emotions of the composer, leading them back into the ballroom.

Annalise found that her new dance companion did not speak like so many of the others - like Andrew. Michaud let his eyes speak for him, echoing the music. Annalise found herself drawn into those dark depths even as she felt his hand at the small of her back draw her closer into his embrace. She returned his soft smile, feeling warmth flooding her body, creeping up her cheeks. She lowered her eyes, looking at her partner through her lashes, amazed to see his smile broaden, the light in his eyes grow softer.

Michaud leaned towards Annalise so that only she could hear his whispered words; it was an act of intimacy that only heightened the color in Annalise's cheeks. "You grow tired, _cherie_. I shall return you safely to the hands of your brother. Yet I wish you to know how fortunate I consider myself to have had this moment and the feel of you in my arms."

They danced around the crowded room, Michaud leading Annalise to where Gustave leaned against a wall. Gustave smiled as they stopped in front of him.

"I thank you for the honor," Michaud said as he kissed Annalise's hand and disappeared into the crowded room.

"Well," Gustave said.

Annalise stared after the retreating figure of her dance partner, catching sight of Andrew in the process. He was dancing with a young woman she did not recognize, they were laughing and Annalise suddenly felt indescribably angry. She turned to face her brother. "I want to go home," she said.

"Why?" Gustave wanted to know.

"I just do," came the reply.

"And I just need a better reason than that. If I take you home now, half the young men in this room will be out for my blood by the morning."

"And if you do not take me home, I shall tell Father that I felt ill and you would not let me leave. Then we shall see who is going to have your blood by the morning."

Brother and sister glared at each other, Gustave finally backing down.

"What is wrong with you?" he wondered and was amazed to see the angry light in his sister's eyes dim, her chin beginning to quiver. He took her arm and led her out of the ballroom, into the hallway where he found a loveseat. Gustave sat Annalise down, joining her on the red velvet. "Did anyone say or do anything to upset you? Because if they did, so help me God, I'll ..."

"No!" Annalise quickly interrupted. "No. No one did anything to me but me." She sighed. "Katherine did not come tonight - she had a headache - and Iso wanted to see her," she lied.

Gustave knew she was lying but did not know where to begin to find the truth. He kissed his sister lightly on the cheek. "Do not fret. I shall make our apologies to Lady Willingham and order the carriage. I promise to even let you sleep on my shoulder on the ride home as long as you do not snore."

"I never snore," Annalise said with a pout.

"Yes, you do," Gustave replied.

"No. I don't."

Gustave relented as he noticed the sadness in his sister's eyes. "No. You do not snore." He grinned. He could not help it. "You just breathe heavily."

Annalise giggled and shook her head, reaching in to give her brother a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. I shall try to breathe lightly."

Gustave stood. "Wait here and I shall be back within a few moments."

Annalise watched as he moved away to make their good-byes to their hostess. "I wonder what Erik would say to all this," she wondered to herself, missing the kind, sad man she had met in the woods.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Summary:** Annalise, Katherine, a letter sent to a friend, a ruined opera house and the shadows begin to draw close.

CHAPTER NINE

She knew she had promised. She knew she had promised to keep their secret and to let those two weeks of quiet talks by the hidden spring remain their only contact, a bittersweet memory for both. Yet the events of the weeks since she had returned to Paris were confusing, their emotions racing through her veins, occupying her every moment, waking her in the middle of the night. She had spoken to her mother about these new, strange and wondrous feelings but those conversations always ended with her mother looking as if she had seen a ghost. Now her father had moments where he, too, looked haunted, almost as if he wanted to kill someone. She did not understand and it hurt to see her one surety in the world - the happiness of her parents - seeming to come apartwhile thinking she had somehow caused it.

She knew she had promised but he would understand. She knew he would understand.

"Come along, Rachel," Annalise said to her young maid as she looked at the envelope in her hand. She had addressed the letter to Monsieur Pfieffer, the priest in the village where her parents had their country home. Annalise knew she could trust the priest to get the letter enclosed to her friend, Erik. "I need to post this letter before I see Katherine and I do not want to miss the noon coach."

Rachel, a young woman in her mid-twenties, came down the staircase and handed Annalise a green silk purse that matched the light summer dress she was wearing. "Here you go, miss," she said. "The carriage is at the front door."

"Then we ought to be going." Annalise walked to the front door but did not have a chance to turn the knob for it seemingly opened of its own accord, startling both her and her maid. "Oooh!" She jumped; a hand over her heart, the fear dissipating as she looked at her two oldest brothers. Annalise managed a nervous giggle.

"Are we truly that frightening?" Jean-Paul asked.

"I did not know we could still frighten the little princess," Richard added.

Annalise stuck her chin in the air. "You cannot," she told them. "I was not frightened, just startled."

The men exchanged knowing looks.

"I was not frightened and why are you here?" Annalise wanted to know.

"To speak with Father about business issues," Jean-Paul lied. He was the better brother at lying to their sister. "And where do you go this lovely morning?"

Annalise gripped the letter in her hands tightly. "To post a letter to a friend and to visit with Katherine."

Her brothers stepped aside.

"Then let us not keep you," Richard said with a smile. "I hope you have a pleasant day with your friend."

"I shall," Annalise told them confidently. She relented beneath their smiles and reached up to kiss both of them on the cheek before going outside with Rachel, climbing into the open carriage which headed down the drive, heading for Paris.

The carriage driver was an expert and had Annalise at the coach stop well before noon. Annalise had wished upon her letter before handing it over to Rachel to post. She had wished that Erik, her friend, this man who had so loved someone, would be able to help her sort out her thoughts and emotions. Annalise knew he was wise and compassionate and would never refuse her request for help; in spite of the fact that she had promised never to contact him again. So the letter was posted, carrying Annalise's wishes with it, and the carriage driver conveyed his passengers to the American ambassador's residence.

"But I do not know what to do!" Annalise exclaimed to Katherine as the two young women strolled down a crowded Paris street, an embassy employee trailing them at a discreet distance. They had enjoyed a morning of gossip, a light lunch with Katherine's cousin, Abigail, the ambassador's wife and now they had escaped the confines of the indoors to enjoy a warm summer afternoon walk.

"Do you have to do anything?" Katherine wondered.

"You heard Lady Eloise Warwick-Blaisdell at the party last evening." Annalise stuck her nose in the air. "When a young lady comes of the age when she is old enough to draw her hair onto her head and be presented to society than she must be wise enough to know that it is time to put aside childish fantasies and settle down to perpetuate the very fabric of that society!"

The two girls looked at each before bursting into giggles.

"She was a bit full of herself," Katherine finally managed, "for all the fact that she is but a year older than you and is not yet married."

"She is English," Annalise replied. "It is to be expected."

The two girls walked on, arm-in-arm, in silence, stopping to look in the windows of jewelers and milliners. Katherine pointed at a tiny sapphire ring with diamonds on either side in one of the windows.

"How pretty!" she exclaimed looking at Annalise. "It is the same color as your eyes."

"It is very pretty," Annalise agreed. "It almost looks like a betrothal ring." She sighed. "And that puts me right back to where I was in the first place. I still do not know what to do."

"And I still do not know what you need to do about what."

"About finding someone to fall in love with, marry and raise a family."

Thunder boomed overhead, the heat and humidity of a summer afternoon becoming too much for the air to contain.

"It is going to rain!" Katherine said. "And we have no umbrellas!"

"I know the perfect place to shelter," Annalise told her. "Quickly!"

Katherine allowed herself to be led by her friend, quickening her steps to keep up with the fast pace that Annalise set. The embassy employee following them shook his head and picked up his pace as well. Katherine found herself running down the street and around the corner and up onto the covered porch of the ruined opera house just as the skies opened, the rain coming down hard and fast.

"That was a lucky chance," Annalise said as she cast a wary eye at the sky. "I think we may have to wait here for awhile."

Katherine looked around her at the other people who had gathered under the sheltering roof. "We do not seem to be the only ones."

"I know a place we can go for privacy." Annalise tugged on Katherine's hand and led her through the growing crowd, disappearing from the sight of the man who had been assigned to chaperone them. She led Katherine around the side of the building, moving towards the back, stopping in front of a boarded up door. Annalise winked at Katherine, reached for one of the boards and moved it aside. She let go of Katherine's hand and walked through the door she had opened. "Come," she told Katherine, "it will be just for a few minutes and we can come right back."

"How did you know about that?" Katherine whispered in the huge silence of the deserted, ruined opera house.

"I have brothers. Brothers are boys who go to school with other boys and boys always seem to know the secret places. And brothers are very good at telling secrets when you tickle them."

Annalise walked down the dusty hallway, Katherine following closely. They emerged onto a stage, a huge chandelier lying half on the stage, half in the orchestra pit, its crystals long broken and lost, their tiny remaining shards like drops of tears scattered across the floorboards. Broken, charred chairs littered the main floor, pieces of ceiling and plaster dust burying their remains. The girls looked up to see a straight line ripped open from one side of the ceiling to the other.

Annalise pointed to her left at a second story box. "That was where my father would sit when he was patron of this place." She turned to look at Katherine. "And this is where my mother would sing. She was studying to be a dancer when she became a singer. I do not know the whole story for my parents will not tell and neither will anyone else but I do know that this is where they fell in love. And then there was a great fire and people died and they closed this opera house, vowing never to rebuild."

"You said it was haunted!" Katherine breathed.

"My brothers have told me that there was supposed to be an opera ghost who would write music and sing in the shadows and kill anyone who did not do as he wished." Annalise rolled her eyes. "I think they just made that up to scare me for tickling them."

Katherine looked around her. "It is very sad, I think. I remember passing this place that first afternoon when we came to visit your family. I thought it was old and sad at that time. Now that I know people actually died here my heart feels like it might break." She turned to look at Annalise. "Why did you bring me in here?"

"I guess ... I suppose ...," Annalise sniffled. "I wanted to see if there was something here that would help me understand why my parents fell in love. I want so hard to know what it is that lets you know you love another person that way. The way that lets you know this is the person you want to marry."

"Is there someone you love?" Katherine asked softly.

Annalise was studying her toes. "I don't know. I have had so manyyoung men be so nice to me but," her voice caught in her throat, "your brother and Michaud Deschene have been especially nice and I am very fond of them both. I just do not know if what I feel for either of them is love. And it is all so very confusing!" Annalise stamped her foot. "And where does it say that I have to marry the very minute Society considers me an adult? I want more than to just be a way for some young man to become wealthy the minute we exchange vows!"

"My brother would never … he would not … He is not like that!" Katherine exclaimed. "It is not nice of you to say so!"

"No, it is not," Annalise conceded. "Sometimes I am not a very nice person, I fear." She walked over to Katherine, laying her hand on the other girl's arm. "I am sorry, forgive me."

"I do forgive you but I guess I just do not understand why this is so important. You are barely older than I!"

"It is important. It is important to me. My parents did not have an easy time when they first married because my mother was an opera singer and not what society thought a proper wife for my father. But they made it, Katherine! They got through all the hard times and they are happy." Annalise paused for a moment, thinking over her next words carefully, knowing that she could trust Katherine. "And I met someone whilst I was in the country that lost his love. I wish you could have seen his eyes when he spoke of her! I want someone to look like that when they talk of me. I want to be loved and cherished. I want to have a marriage like that of my parents." She smiled. "I like your brother very much and I also like Michaud but I have no way of knowing what it is I am feeling for them much less what it is they are feeling for me!"

"Oh …" Katherine replied softly. "I have even less experience than you. I do not know what to say to you. My parents are very American, I think, and would never discuss these things with me." She thought for a moment. "I think if it was me I would not rush into anything. This is the rest of your life so make sure you know what it is you desire and do not settle for anything less."

Annalise hugged her friend. "I think you are older than I in some ways."

Katherine laughed. "No, I am just a very good listener."

"We ought to go," Annalise told her, looking around at the ruins of the once glorious opera house. "I think my mother was right and the past ought to be left in the past." She sighed. "I think I shall listen to my own mind and my own heart from this point forward and not bow to what society thinks is expected of me."

Katherine nodded, taking her friend's arm and they walked out of the darkened shadows of the opera house, into the rain-washed air of a Paris afternoon.

Their frantic embassy chaperone saw them coming around the corner of the building and marched over to the two girls. "Where have you been?" he demanded in a tone of voice that startled both girls. "I asked you a question!" He was nearly shouting.

Katherine looked stunned. Annalise was stunned at first but quickly recovered, she was not used to being addressed in such a manner. "We were around the corner where we could have privacy to talk."

"You could have talked quietly here where I could watch you!" Their chaperone growled at them. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? Do you know the kind of people that hang around ruined places? Do you know what they can do to young, unprotected girls?" He glared at them. "Do you want me to draw you a picture?"

"N ... n ... no," Katherine stammered.

Their chaperone did not hear them through his anger and fright. "They could have taken you, spirited you away and we would have no idea where to look! Once you were in their power they ..." He stopped as some of the fright and anger drained away at the sight of the two girls in front of him, their eyes downcast, cheeks pale, hands clasped tightly. "Ladies," he breathed deeply, steadying his nerves, "forgive me. You frightened me and I reacted badly."

Katherine felt Annalise's hand squeeze hers, an almost imperceptible smile coming to her face. She squeezed back. Katherine raised her eyes. "We are sorry, too. We really did not mean to frighten you."

Annalise also raised her eyes. "You are not going to tell, are you?"

What chance did he have against those two pairs of eyes, brown and blue, huge and beseeching; he sighed. "I shan't tell but you must promise me to never do anything so foolish again." He gave them a weak grin. "And you must promise me that you will not tell on me."

The girls each took one of his arms. "We promise," they chorused.

"I think chocolate is called for," Annalise said. "And I know the perfect little _patisserie_. It is just around the corner. It shall be my treat."

"Our treat," Katherine said as she looked at their chaperone. "Our apology."

Their chaperone laughed. "Apology accepted," he told them, guiding them into the sunshine and away from the opera house.

They did not notice the man who stood in the dispersing crowd that had gathered round the opera house during the downpour. He had been watching the girls all day as they had moved about the city, always hiding in the shadows, always just out of their sight. He knew the stories of the opera house - the ghost, the murders, the fire. He had seen the girls go around the corner and disappear into the opera house, following them, listening to their words from the shadows. He remembered hearing the rest of the stories about the opera house - about the chorus girl, the ghost and the wealthy young man, the stories that were only whispered about behind closed doors - and his eyebrow raised, a smirk growing on his face. He had heard their chaperone as he yelled at them for who could not have heard that? And he had stared after Annalise and Katherine as they walked away, suddenly knowing just how he needed to proceed.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Summary:** Raoul listens to his sons concerns for their sister and secrets from the past begin to be divulged.

CHAPTER TEN

"You have to do something!" Jean-Paul insisted.

Raoul did not look up from the papers he was signing. "And what is it you would have me do?" He had listened to the concerns of all three of his sons regarding their sister for thirty minutes and had stopped actively listening five minutes previously.

"Something. Anything," Richard pleaded. "Her reputation is at stake."

Raoul placed his pen down, looking up from his papers, fixing his sons with a look that froze them. "There will be no aspersions cast upon the reputation of any female member of this family from anyone." His tone was deadly. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Richard told him.

Raoul looked at his eldest child. "Jean-Paul?" Raoul knew the set of those shoulders. "I am waiting."

"Yes, sir," Jean-Paul answered his father.

Raoul turned his attention to his youngest son who had - for the most part - been sitting quietly as his two older brothers poured out their concerns. "You have been her chaperone for the last months." He laughed softly; it was a hollow sound. "You have seen Annalise more than any of us. Has she done anything that would cause these rumors to fly about?"

Gustave had been lounging in one of the leather armchairs in his father's study. He had agreed to join his brothers when they brought up their concerns regarding their sister. Yet he had not been prepared for the lengthy list of rumors that Jean-Paul and Richard had been hearing. "Sir," Gustave cleared his throat, "these ... lies ... and they are just that - lies - are without basis. I have been to nearly every gathering with Annalise," Gustave looked pointedly at his elder brothers, "and she has done nothing to deserve such talk. Yes, she has danced with certain young men more than is perhaps wise; and - yes - she has managed to find private places to share private thoughts with them. But she has done nothing - nothing! - to warrant anyone saying she has been playing fast and loose with any young man. The only thing I can think is that these things are being bandied about by someone who is jealous of her."

"I see," Raoul replied. He thought quietly for moment. "I share your suspicions; therefore, I expect each and every one of you to do your best to find from whence these rumors come and stop them." His sons watched as Raoul's expression softened. "Your sister is still very young in many ways and your mother and I share the blame for that. But Annalise is maturing into a remarkable young woman and -for reasons that are of no concern to any of you - I would not have her spirit broken. Do I make myself clear?"

His sons nodded their agreement.

"Do not be angry with us, sir," Jean-Paul addressed his father. "We love her, too, and do not wish to see her hurt."

"That is why we came to you with our concerns," Richard finished.

Raoul sighed heavily. "I am not angry with you," he assured them. "I am distressed at the situation. It is never easy to listen to the evil things that people will say about the ones you love or to see them hurt and in pain." Raoul's eyes grew distant. "It is something I do not wish to see inflicted upon your sister."

"Well, then," Jean-Paul began; he took his role as eldest son and heir seriously, "we shall have to put on a united front and support any decision Annalise may make."

"While making sure that her actions are seen as the perfectly normal actions of any young girl," Richard finished.

Their father placed his fingers at the bridge of his nose. "Are you listening to yourselves?" he asked. "You sound like her grandparents and not her brothers! Your sister is behaving like a normal young woman and all you need to do is to see that she enjoys her youth and that the rumors stop before they reach her ears." His exasperation got the better of him and Raoul slammed an open palm on his desk. "What is so damn difficult about that? Why can you not just do as I ask of you? You are adults with families of you own, why are you having so much trouble understanding this? I am sure your wives would understand or shall I send for them and see what they think of this?"

Jean-Paul and Richard could not meet their father's eyes.

"I thought as much," Raoul said softly as he leaned back in his chair. "I do not mean to be angry but I need you to be Annalise's brothers and not her judges. You need to have a care for her as ..." Raoul struggled with his next words, "... as things and events have a habit of overtaking you when you least expect. I do not want your sister overtaken by anything that she can not handle. Can you manage to do that? Can you manage to love your sister and keep her safe and happy?"

His sons nodded their assent.

Raoul sighed and nodded. "Then it is well. Now, go and pay your compliments to your mother. I believe she is in the garden and would be pleased to see you."

Jean-Paul and Richard nodded their respects at their father before turning to leave the study. Gustave stood as his brothers left the room.

"One moment," Raoul told his youngest son as his brothers turned the corner and were no longer visible in the doorway. "Close the door and resume your seat."

Gustave walked over to close the door before returning to his seat opposite his father's desk. "Sir?" he wondered.

"I am not playing favorites with any of my sons but you are closest to your sister so I will speak freely with you." Raoul closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "Your mother has concerns about the men who are beginning to court your sister."

Gustave studied his fingernails. "Any man in particular?"

"Let us not mince words, Gustave; I want to know about your friend Andrew."

"I know that he is very fond of her," Gustave told his father. "I do not know if he is in love with her and I do not think he would tell me. I think he would consider it a betrayal, almost as if he had been using our friendship to gain access to my sister." Gustave met his father's concerned gaze. "Annalise and I enjoy our times with Andrew and Katherine. We share much the same interests and it has been very pleasant to be able to show our world to these people who do not know of it. I believe that Annalise and Katherine have formed a friendship that will extend beyond the ocean that separates our countries and last for their lifetimes. I just wish I knew what to tell you about Andrew. I can tell you that he will not toy with Annalise or break her heart - he is too honest to do such a thing. Sometimes I think he treats her more like a brother than a lover."

"And what of Michaud Deschene?" Raoul wondered. "I have heard that he does toy with young women as well as the older ones. I have also heard that he is quite capable of breaking hearts." Raoul shook his head. "I do not want your sister's heart broken."

Gustave sighed. "He is a personage that much is certain."

"I am not asking for what he is," Raoul told his son. "I am asking for your opinion of his character."

"Speaking for myself, I find his character somewhat questionable."

"In what manner?"

"It is hard to describe."

Raoul fixed his son with an intense gaze. "Try," he told Gustave.

Gustave sat quietly for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "He is everything you would think a man in his position would be. He is kind and considerate and exceedingly polite. I know from listening to Annalise and her friends speak that they consider him to be quite handsome. But there is just something about him that is …" Gustave struggled to give voice to his emotions. "It is intense. It is almost as if he is hiding his intentions beneath a veneer of civility and I do not like not knowing what his intentions are – especially where they concern my sister." He shook his head. "And to think I laughed at Andrew when he told me the same things."

Raoul lowered his head so that his son could not see the emotions that raced behind his eyes.

"Will it ever end?" he whispered to himself.

"Sir?" Gustave had heard the whisper but not the words.

"It is nothing," Raoul said with a sigh and raised his head. "I need you to promise me something."

"If it is within my power, I promise that I shall try."

"What I tell you now must never be repeated to your mother, is that clear?" Raoul watched as Gustave nodded his assent. "There were events that happened long before any of you were born, before your mother and I married. These … things … nearly destroyed both of us and I think in some ways they did destroy a part of your mother. There was also another person and I have reason to believe that this person suffered the greatest destruction of all involved. There was an intensity to these events – to that other person - and that is why I am telling you as much as I am. I do not wish your sister to be caught up in any events or with any person where there is such an intensity. I am asking you to watch Annalise carefully and intervene should you feel the need to do so."

Gustave shook his head. "Sir … you are asking a good deal of me." He looked at his father, a flash of anger in his dark eyes. "And I am to do this without knowing the why behind the reasons? I know that you and Maman have secrets and from what little you have just told me they must be terrible secrets. How I am to have a care for my sister when I do not even understand for what it is I am watching. Or who?"

"The who you do not need to fear as I have reason to believe ... hope ... that that person is gone from our lives forever." Raoul met his son's angry glance with a shake of his head. "And I cannot tell you the why behind the reasons as your mother promised to never tell and she swore me to the same vow."

"But ..." his son interrupted.

"Let it be!" Raoul replied in a tone of voice that brooked no disagreement. "You have no idea the cost your mother paid for what she purchased!" Raoul closed his eyes, trying to even out his breathing and shake away memories that always seemed to lie too close to the surface.

"I am sorry," Gustave replied quietly. This was a side of his father he had never seen and could not even begin to understand.

Raoul opened his eyes. "I know that I am asking a good deal of you but you know your sister better in some respects than even your mother and I do, I believe. What little I have told you should give you some understanding as to the reasons why your mother has always been overprotective of your sister. I am not asking you to hover about Annalise or to betray any secrets she may entrust to you or to prevent her from enjoying the company of people her own age. All I am asking is that you watch her carefully and to let me know should things seem to be getting beyond what Annalise can handle." Raoul shook his head. "Your brothers are good men and they mean well but they have families and concerns of their own now, thusly, their interests and intentions will always be pulled elsewhere. I need someone I can trust in this. I need your help."

Gustave was silent for moment, digesting what his father had said. "I …," he started and thought for a moment, "actually, all of us have never understood why you and Mother have always been – how shall I say this? – overly concerned regarding our safety. There were times when it felt as if we were kept in little boxes that had no lock to open them. I know that is why Annalise can be so forward at times; she longs for her freedom. Now that I know a little of the reasoning, I … think … I can appreciate why things have been as they have and while I wish to know the truth, I think there is a part of me that fears it." Gustave met his father's gaze. "I am glad that you think me adult enough to be trusted with some of the secrets you hold close." He stood and walked over to the desk, extending his hand to his father. "I promise to live up to your trust in me, sir."

Raoul took his son's hand, his eyes echoing the relief he felt in his soul. "I do not doubt it. Thank you."

The room was silent for a moment as the past, present and future echoed off the walls.

"Go now and see your mother," Raoul told his son. He watched as Gustave headed out the door. "Stay," he said. Gustave turned around. "Do you know where your sister is at the moment?"

"She left this morning to post a letter to Monsieur Pfieffer, the priest in Saumur and to spend the day with Katherine." Gustave smiled. "She has promised Maman that she will remain at home tonight and have dinner with you both."

"I should like that," Raoul replied. "Go now and close the door; I still have work to finish."

Raoul watched as his son exited the study, softly closing the door behind him. There were still bills to be paid, correspondence that needed his attention, but as he looked down at the papers on the desk Raoul found he could not see them. He pushed his chair back, stood and walked to the windows that looked out onto the gardens. He saw Christine seated on one of the benches, Jean-Paul and Richard on either side and she was laughing. Raoul could hear the sound of her laughter in his mind – it was a sound he had once thought never to hear and it was a sound he cherished. He watched as Gustave made his way down the path, knowing that he had made the right decision in trusting his youngest son with the care of his sister. Raoul turned from the window and looked at the framed photographs on the wall by the bookshelves. He reached out and ran a finger lovingly over the one taken the previous year of Christine and Annalise.

"What am I to do?" he asked into the quiet room, reaching around to massage the back of his left arm. Whenever the events of all those years ago would crowd his mind, the remnants of the wound that the opera ghost had inflicted would ache. There were moments when Raoul often wondered if his arm ached because his heart and soul could not hold all the pain and unresolved emotions that still remained even now.

"I will not let Christine go through this again," he promised softly, "and our daughter will never be in the hands of a person like that." He sighed and sat down, leaning back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, seeing that masked face in the ornate plaster medallions. "You have my wife, let that be enough. I will not let your ghost have my child."

Eerie, cold music seemed to fill the room and Raoul was not sure if it was real or only the fears of his own heart.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Summary: We are introduced to Tomas, Erik's "eyes and ears" on the world when he delivers a letter from Annalise. Meanwhile in Paris, another man seems to be stepping into the role left vacant by the disappearance of The Phantom of The Opera.

_(NOTE: The quote from Shakespeare is: Portia - From Merchant of Venice (IV, I, 184-186)_

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Erik had not left his ruined monastery since Annalise, his Angel's lovely angel, had returned to Paris. He found he could no longer bear to go out into the light of day where the pain and loss that were his constant companions would be highlighted and magnified for the whole world to see. He could not think about walking to the hidden spring in the woods were he had spent those sweet, precious, all too brief hours in her company. Erik could not even bear to look at the woods anymore. He had buried himself away from the world once again and was not sure that this time he would be able to find his way from the darkness that enveloped him. He began to regret telling her that she should not write to him; yet he did not wish for her parents to find him out. Erik did not wish for one parent to find him out.

"You have everything," Erik whispered bitterly to the darkened room. "You have my Angel. You have her sons. You have ... her daughter. And I have nothing. Nothing!" He could still see Annalise as she ran down the hill that last afternoon and into the waiting arms of her father. "Will you ever stop haunting me?" He placed his head into his hands. "Have I not paid enough for my sins?"

The sins played behind his closed eyes, never far from his every breath, taunting while awake and haunting while asleep. Erik could remember the feel of life as it ebbed away from every victim he had claimed, strengthening him, filling him with a sense of invincibility. He remembered the incredible depth of burning desire that his Angel had stirred within him. He remembered the slow-burning hatred he felt for that man; the hatred that had finally turned to blind rage. He remembered how that rage had consumed him, eating him alive from the inside out until there was nothing left but to destroy the thing that was destroying him. How close he had come to having both! He could have killed that man and had his Angel for eternity. Yet he knew that had he killed that other man it would have destroyed his Angel and that would have killed him.

Now, Erik had been given another glimpse of Heaven only to find that - once again - that other man held the keys to his release. Erik was certain those keys would never be given to him. He would spend his remaining time on this earth in that locked cage of his youth and in some unknowable, untouchable Hell for the rest of eternity. He knew he would never find peace.

"M'sieur?" a voice called to him from the doorway.

Erik did not lift his head or acknowledge that there was even another presence in his darkened purgatory.

"M'sieur," the voice tried again. "I have returned from the village."

"I know, Tomas," Erik replied wearily. "I have no need of you, please just go."

"But I have something of importance from the priest to give you."

Erik lifted his head to look at the worn man standing across the room from him. He had found Tomas one day, shortly after he had purchased the ruined monastery, sleeping underneath the remnants of what had once been an altar. Erik had discovered that Tomas had been running from the law since the days of his youth, never resting in more than one place for a few days. He would steal what he needed to survive and take his pleasure and comfort where he could. Tomas had been staying at the ruined monastery on and off for years; it was his safe harbor. Tomas had not been frightened of the face that Erik presented to the world for he had seen horrors that not even Erik could imagine. The two wandering souls had found in each other a void that needed to be filled. Now, for a few francs each month and a safe place to stay, Tomas had found a purpose to his life. Erik needed someone to be his eyes and ears to the world and Tomas willingly took that role upon himself. In return, Tomas looked upon himself as the one true protection that Erik had against the forces that would destroy him.

"What is it?" Erik wanted to know.

Tomas crossed the room. "M'sieur Pfieffer said I was to deliver this to you and if you wanted to reply, you should give me the letter for him to post."

"Letter?" A light began to dawn in Erik's dead eyes.

Tomas pulled an envelope of creamy stationary from his pocket, handing it to Erik. "This is the letter."

Erik took the envelope from Tomas, not realizing that he was no longer breathing.

"M'sieur?" Tomas asked.

"Go," Erik told him and realized quickly the tone of his voice. He looked up at Tomas. "I am sorry and I am very grateful to you for bringing this to me."

Tomas tilted his head to one side. He was not one to let the emotional whims of this strange man disturb the sameness of his life. "I shall go and tend to the meal," Tomas told him and turned, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Erik looked at the envelope he held in his hands, the feel of the fine linen like the touch of an angel's breath against his fingertips. He was not sure where he found the strength to stand but he needed the daylight from the windows to be able to read the words he was longing to see. Erik walked over, pulled back the heavy, dark draperies and sat on the window seat, opening the letter with shaky hands.

_"My Dear Erik - for you have told me not to call you Monsieur Lachaise,"_ the letter began.

Erik could not see the rest of the words so he drew the letter to his chest, holding it against his heart. She had written! She had not forgotten him! She had ignored his wishes and written to him! She was as stubborn and as independent as she was beautiful. Erik drew a deep breath, steadying his pounding heart and lowered the letter to continue to read the words she had written to him.

_"I pray this letter finds you in good health and well of spirit. I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me for breaking my promise to never write you but I just know that you will be able to guide me in a matter of a delicate nature."_

She wanted his forgiveness? He who needed to be forgiven was being asked to forgive? A stray memory drifted up from the dark recesses of Erik's mind, the words escaping his lips before he knew they had passed. "The quality of mercy is not strain'd. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath; it is twice bless'd; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes," he said softly. Erik wondered for a brief moment what kind of magic this mere letter was weaving upon him but it was only a brief moment as he once again turned his attention back to the flowery script.

_"I have missed your presence and our daily talks. You have a wisdom that I can only hope and pray shall be mine when I am of an age when such things are the fruits of our lives. It is this wisdom I seek out for I know that you have loved deeply and dearly. I could see it in your eyes when you spoke of the angel that you had lost. You still love her, one has only to look to know such is true."_

Still love her? Erik thought. Sweet, sweet child, I have never stopped loving her.

_"I know that what I ask of you next may bring bittersweet memories of your angel but I find that I must ask someone who will answer my questions truthfully. I have tried speaking of this to my parents but Maman looks as if she has seen a ghost when I mention it and Father wears the same expression, though, at times, he looks as if he wants to kill someone."_

"That someone being me," Erik said softly.

_"It troubles me to know that I cannot turn to my parents on such an important matter in my life without causing them pain. I - and I speak plainly to you for I know you would expect nothing less - am frightened that my questions may be causing a division between my parents. They have always been my security, my safe place in which to hide and to think that I am the cause of this trouble brings such pain to my heart!"_

Erik could not honestly say to himself that he was unhappy about a rift between that man and his Angel but he was distressed that Annalise felt herself responsible. He resumed reading.

_"There are many young men who seek my company at events and parties. They have all been very nice to me and I find I enjoy their attention. It makes me smile as I write these words and think of their kindness, the sweet things they whisper to me, the strength of their arms as we dance. I had never imagined that such feelings were possible when I was a child listening to the fairy stories Maman would read to me. The stories never told of how a heart could swell with emotion at just a mere glance! And now I find myself wondering how one knows that one is in love."_

The bitter laughter rang off the stone walls. Love? Love? How could this innocent child understand what she was asking of him?

_"There are two young men of whom I am particularly fond and I find my feelings become jumbled and confused when I try to sort one from the other. Andrew is my brother, Gustave's, friend and he is well-featured and reminds me of Father - strong, gentle, safe. He is very nice to me and I know that he looks at me in a way that he looks at no other. I find myself comfortable when I am with him. Yet he speaks bluntly to me - did I say that he was American? They speak their minds, I find, caring little for the niceties and more for the truth - and expects me to understand and know what he means. I did not think this was how a lover was supposed to behave."_

Why did all young girls want to fall in love with the image of their father? Erik did not wish to think too hard or too long upon that question as it stirred memories he fought in vain to forget.

_"The other young man is an acquaintance of another brother and his name is Michaud. When he looks at me or dances with me, I find myself blushing down to the very soles of my satin slippers! Michaud is so handsome with his dark hair and dark sparkling eyes. I find that even I as think about him my stomach flutters, my breath comes in sighs. He stirs in me a warmth of feeling that I have never known before and I think that - at times - it frightens me! I am not foolish enough to think that I am the only one who has these feelings and thoughts when they are with him; but what I am to think when Michaud holds me and tells me that he seeks me out specially? Can I trust his words? Are these flutterings and sighs love?" _

Erik looked out the window at the bright summer afternoon, wondering upon the whims of a fickle God. "Will You throw my past into my face for the rest of eternity?" he demanded angrily before turning back to the letter.

_"I know that you understand what it is to love. Please, my dear friend, tell me what it is to love; I am so confused. Help me to understand what it is I am feeling. If it is not love, then I need to know that. If it is love, then tell me how I am to know. I realize that I ask much of you but I turn to you because I know you are wise in these things and will be honest with me. I trust you with future of my heart, dear Erik. Please help me. I remain your loving friend, Annalise."_

Stunned, Erik sat quietly, reading and re-reading those last lines. She was trusting him with her future. That man's daughter was trusting him with the most precious things she possessed - her heart, her happiness, her life. It was the gifts he had wanted from her mother and the things he would never have. Now the daughter was offering it to him freely. It amazed Erik and a strange smile curled his lips.

"I wonder what you would say to this, Monsieur le Vicomte?" he wondered aloud. "You cannot let the past go so your only daughter turns to that very same past to resolve her future." And Christine had not forgotten him! His Angel still remembered and the thought made Erik's heart soar. Even now she could still reach out from a distance to hold his heart in her delicate hands. "I still hold a place in Christine's heart. I wonder if you even know that." Perhaps, through this child, there might be a way for his Angel to be with him. "Your wife and your child, how easy it would be to take them from you. What a fool you remain!" Erik hissed into the silent room.

The hope that he might someday be reunited with his Angel was something that Erik had carried with him through the years, across the oceans. It was a hope that sank quickly as he remembered the letter he held and the child who had sent it to him. She had been one of the few who had accepted him without question and now she was confused and in pain, looking to him for guidance. Erik knew he could do nothing to cause her further distress and would, in fact, do anything she asked of him. He shook his had sadly. Would the tug-of-war on his emotions that first Christine, and now her daughter, exerted over him ever end? It was a question he found he could not answer as he stood, crossing the room to his writing desk.

Even as Erik sat down, pulling stationary and pen from a drawer, the bitterness he still felt for that other man quickly faded. Something about the blind faith this young woman had in him after such a brief time spent together crowded out all other emotions. She was trusting him and without fear. It was a new and wonderful sensation for Erik and he did want any residual hurt to crowd out and destroy this feeling. He wished to hold it and savor it, keep it safe and guarded. Above all, he wanted to help this precious human being sort out her feelings and discover what it was to love. What it was to love another with the same depth and longing and desire as he had felt - and would feel forever - for her mother, his beloved Angel.

_"My Sweet Annalise," _he began to scratch across the paper.

And while Erik composed his emotions, placing them on paper, another man - a day's ride away in Paris - sought to compose his emotions about the same young woman.

He had given up fighting against the feelings she had raised within him. Her voice, her face, the very smell of her, was with him every second of the day. He presented to the world the face and image expected of him but deep inside he was tortured by this woman. Her image, her touch burned so fiercely within his soul that there were moments when he thought the only solution to his to torment would be to offer her as a living sacrifice upon the fires of love. Let the flames consume her and be done but the thought of her not being within his reach would reduce him to a mere shell of the person he thought he knew. He took those thoughts of himself without her and turned and twisted them around to a way that would keep her by his side forever.

He made delicate, discreet inquiries at parties attended, salons lounged in and discovered secrets long kept hidden. He turned to the darkened streets and back alleys of Paris, searching for the right people who had been there, the nobodies who did the manual work all too necessary for the enjoyment of those like himself. A few francs, a few bottles of wine and even the most reticent tongues began to tell. All he had had to do was sit back and listen as those anonymous faces filled in the details that the more genteel members of society did not know. He had been amazed at the wealth of knowledge he had gained for a mere pittance of the funds he had been willing to expend.

Very carefully he had selected certain elements from the taverns he had haunted. They had the looks and manners to accomplish what he wished without being discovered and to vanish once the deed was done. He had paid them well to place bribes, to order items, to lay in place the dominos that would fall and push her into his arms. And should all of his plans fail, they had supplied him with the means to his end and the knowledge of how to use those means. Yet, had these men but cared when they looked into his eyes, they would have known it was a knowledge he did not need.

He had taken lives before when crossed.

He was quite capable of doing so again.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Summary: A sheet of music mysteriously appears at the de Chagny home, stirring old memories and creating new tension. Annalise receives a reply to her letter from Erik.

_(Author's Note: The bible verse is John 15:12-14 from the King James Version)_

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Good morning!" Annalise chirped happily as she entered the dining room. "Do I smell warm croissants?"

Gustave sat at the table, his head in his hands. "How can you even think about food?" he wondered.

Annalise stopped to kiss her mother before moving down the table to kiss her father, taking a seat to his right. "Someone had too much wt. She knew the signs her children were displaying and wondered if they would ever mature. "I am sure that your brother has many lovely young women who would be only too happy to have him on their dance cards."

Gustave smirked at his sister who promptly stuck her tongue out at him. "Stop that," he told her.

"I did not do anything. I am a lady," Annalise told him as she stuck her little nose in the air.

"And who decided that?" Raoul asked as he put down the mail he had been reading; there was a distinct twinkle in his eyes.

Annalise responded to the look. "You did. You always said I was your special little lady."

"A vast misconception, obviher has many lovely young women who would be only too happy to have him on their dance cards."

Gustave smirked at his sister who promptly stuck her tongue out at him. "Stop that," he told her.

"I did not do anything. I am a lady," Annalise told him as she stuck her little nose in the air.

"And who decided that?" Raoul asked as he put down the mail he had been reading; there was a distinct twinkle in his eyes.

Annalise responded to the look. "You did. You always said I was your special little lady."

"A vast misconception, obviously," Raoul told her, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "You must have cast a spell upon me."

Gustave looked at his mother. "Can you not do anything?"

"They are both impossible," Christine told her son. "I have often remarked it." She turned her attention to her daughter. "We now know what your brother did last evening, what of you?"

"I danced," Annalise replied innocently.

"With half the young men in Paris, you forget to add," her brother said through a smile full of clenched teeth. "And the other half is on tonight's dance card."

"I cannot help it everyone loves me," Annalise shot back. "You would not be so rude if you had not had so much to drink."

"And I would not have had so much to drink if I was as loved as you were and had all of Paris at my feet."

Raoul reached out his other hand to lay it over his son's. He looked down the table at his wife, one eyebrow raised, to find Christine smiling back at him. Raoul knew that look and knew he was on his own. "I find it hard to believe the two of you are arguing at your mother's breakfast table over who is loved more. Let us leave this discussion for a more appropriate time." He watched as his children stared at each other, neither willing to be the first to back down. Raoul tried looking again to his wife for help but Christine still wore that small, peaceful smile that meant he needed to resolve the situation on his own. "Children ..."

"I'll say I'm sorry, if you do," Gustave told his sister.

"You have to say it first."

"Oh no, I am not falling for that again. How old do you think I am? Seven?"

"I would think you are both acting as if you were three," Christine said softly.

That was all it took.

"I'm sorry," Annalise told her brother.

"I am sorry, too."

Christine lifted her teacup and took a sip. "A happy family once again," she said softly and looked at her husband. "What was in the morning's post?"

Raoul would never understand how she did that. "Nothing that cannot wait." He handed two envelopes to his daughter. "But you have a letter from Monsieur Pfieffer and something from Bonnard's Bookstore."

Annalise eagerly took the envelopes her father handed her; she knew what would be in the letter from the priest.

"Is Monsieur Pfieffer not the priest in Saumur?" Christine wondered aloud. "Why are you writing to him when our own priests are here at Notre Dame?"

"I write to him because he was very kind to me and very wise," Annalise told her mother without defining her pronouns and telling her exactly who it was that had been so kind and wise. "Is that so wrong of me?"

"Now she asks," Gustave muttered under his breath and was silenced with a look from his father.

"No, it is not," Christine told her daughter. "If you find comfort from this priest, then by all mean, please, write to him as often as you desire. And what have you purchased from Bonnard's?'

Annalise was delighted that she had received permission to write to her friend, even if she had not exactly told the whole truth. "I asked them to find me some new sheet music. May I go and try?"

"As long as you leave the doors open so that we can hear," Raoul told her.

Annalise stood, placing the envelope from Monsieur Pfieffer in her pocket and almost skipped out of the room and down the hall to the music room.

"Surely you could not have drunk that much?" Raoul said as he turned his attention to his son who was still holding his head, the breakfast untouched before him.

"I did not think that I had," Gustave began and stopped as Annalise's voice drifted into the dining room, familiar words from the opera "Hannibal" dancing through the morning air.

Gustave watched as the color drained from his mother's face, her lips opening in shock, frightened eyes looking at his father.

"Oh God," Christine breathed. "Those words."

He turned to his father as Raoul stood quickly, pushing his chair back so violently that it fell over. He was out of the dining room before Christine could stand.

"Raoul ..." she tried calling to him, getting to her feet, and sagging against the table. Her son was quickly at her side.

"Maman?" Gustave wondered in awe as he took her arm and felt the trembling, saw the tears begin to form. "What is it? What is wrong?" He was torn between wanting to help his mother and wanting to run after his father to discover why that music had provoked such strange reactions in both parents.

"Your father ..." Christine said as she looked at her son.

Raoul had almost run down the hallway as that familiar music had begun. He reached the door to the music room and strode in to find his daughter, fingers poised over the piano keys, studying a single sheet of music. "Where did you get that?" he demanded angrily.

Annalise looked up, startled by the tone of voice. "What?"

Raoul was at her side in barely four steps, reaching down to take that single sheet off the piano. "This," he told her. "I want to know where you got this!"

"I ... I ..."

"Tell me where you got this!" Raoul took his daughter's arm and shook it.

Annalise looked at her father, frightened by the stranger who gripped her arm so tightly. "It fell out of the sheet music that came from Bonnard's. I didn't mean ... I only wanted to see ... it is just music!"

"It is not just music," Raoul almost snarled at his daughter as he began to tear the sheet of music into little pieces.

"Raoul!"

Raoul looked up to see his wife standing in the doorway supported by her son.

"It's alright," Christine said softly. She let go of her son's arm and crossed the room to her husband's side. Christine reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. "I'm alright."

Raoul looked at his wife's face as a single tear escaped to trace a track down her pale cheek. "Christine," he breathed as he gathered her into his arms, feeling his pounding heartbeat slow.

Annalise looked at her parents and saw only strangers. She felt the pain in her arm from where her father had shaken it. It was too much and she burst into tears, running from the room.

"Annalise," Gustave said as he reached out for the girl who swept by him in a blur of long skirts and soft sobs. It took him a moment to react and then he was chasing after her, running down the hall and up the stairs to try and reach her.

Christine and Raoul had broken apart as their daughter burst into sobs and fled the room.

"Oh God!" Raoul exclaimed in despair. "What have I done?"

"Annalise, please," Gustave pleaded as he shook the locked latch on her bedroom door.

"Go away," came the muffled reply.

"Please let me in!"

"Go away!" Annalise shouted at the man on the other side of the door.

"I'll go but I am coming back with Maman and Father."

"Just go away," Annalise said softly as she struggled with her sobs and heard the sound of her brother's footsteps recede. "Just go away." She walked away from the door and flung herself onto her bed, burying her head in the pillows and sobbing until there were no tears left.

All her life Annalise had been the cherished, pampered child. She had had almost everything for which she had asked. There had been the required lessons given every daughter of wealthy parents and the education that was not required but upon which Raoul had insisted. Oh, there had been corrections and punishments from her parents but they had always been gently given. Annalise had never known harsh words or violence from anyone and to have received it from the hands of the one person she looked to most for comfort and security was incomprehensible. She was not sure she understood why or would ever be able to forgive her father.

"What did I do that was so wrong?" she asked the empty bedroom as she sat up, the sobs threatening to come again. Annalise reached into her pocket for her handkerchief and her hands touched the other envelope her father had given her that morning. She took it out and looked at it for a brief moment before trembling fingers opened it, taking out the enclosed letter

_"My Sweet Annalise," _she read, a small smile forming on her tear-stained face. _"There are not words to tell you how delighted I was to receive your letter. I will not say that I am displeased with you for ignoring my wishes as I have missed our daily conversations very much and had begun to regret telling you to hold our time together secret. I wish to compliment you on the way you have found round my wishes - you are not only beautiful but intelligent. It is a rare combination in a young woman and I have found it in only one other."_

"Well at least someone thinks I am intelligent," she sniffled.

_"I am deeply honored that you feel you can turn to me - a veritable stranger - with questions of such a tender nature. I hope that what I tell you next will do nothing to diminish the esteem in which you hold me for I am not, perhaps, the wisest person to ask about the delicate matter of love. Yes, I have loved. I have loved deeply and truly and somberly but not very wisely, I fear. When I first found my Angel, I thought it was love I felt for her. She was much like you - young and sweet and innocent. She also had a voice that came from God, which is why I have always called her "my Angel". That is the reason I called you such on the first day we met in the woods for you sound much like she did."_

Annalise held the letter to her heart for a moment, suddenly understanding why Erik had always looked at her as if he wanted to cry.

_"And now I will speak freely to you, as one adult to another, for I feel that this is what you are seeking from me. I have said that I loved my Angel deeply but not wisely and while it hurts me to admit such, I find I must for you to understand the rest of what I must tell you. When I first met my Angel we were both very young. I found in her a kindred soul, someone who loved the joy of music as much as I, myself, did. We became each other's Muses, each other's inspiration. I lifted her voice to the heights of Heaven and she raised my music from the depths of Hell. Oh, how it pains me to even put these next words to paper! I became obsessed with my Angel, thinking that she - and she alone - would be the one who would save me from the darkness. My obsession plunged me into the very bottom of the abyss! I am afraid that I did terrible things to her and to those around her in my efforts to hold onto her."_

How could the gentle man she had met in the woods be the same man who would be capable of doing any harm to the woman he loved? Instead of finding answers, Annalise found herself becoming more and more confused.

_"It was not until I had finally crossed the last threshold into Hell that I was to learn what it truly meant to love another. That was the moment when my Angel made a sacrifice that showed me what it is to love and to love openly and honestly, without fear, without reservation. She showed me that to love someone meant placing their needs above your own. She taught me that the words I had only heard whispered in dark chapels - Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends - were not just mere words spoken by some man in which I had no belief but were real and true and living before my very eyes! It was the moment I finally understood what itmeant to love her and it was the moment I lost her."_

"She died?" Annalise whispered into the still room, feeling the tears begin again. It was a revelation for which she had not been prepared.

_"My dear, sweet child, when you are finally ready to love, I have no doubt that you will know it. You will find in your young man someone who will hold your emotions in trust, expecting nothing from you yet willing to give everything to you. You will find in him a safe refuge from the everyday cares of this life. I believe he will be your best friend and you will be his. When you can think of nothing but him, wish for nothing but his happiness, care for nothing but his continued well-being, then you will find in front of your eyes the man whom you love. Take these words to heart and know that I speak the truth for it is a truth learned from bitter, painful experience. I only pray that the man you choose is worthy of such a prize as you and that - perhaps - someday you will bring him to meet your strange, lonely friend. I remain, forever, your friend and servant, Erik."_

Annalise held the letter in her hands, staring at the words, no longer seeing them. The thoughts and images that flooded her mind confused her and she struggled to sort them out. She was startled out of her reverie by a knock on the door.

"Annalise?" she heard her father call softly. She stared at the door, willing the person on the other side to go away. "Please?" she heard him try again.

Slipping the letter from Erik beneath her pillow, Annalise got off the bed and walked across the room. She turned the key and opened the door, greeting her father's worried gaze with her own angry one. "I do not wish to talk with you," she told him, turning her back to him, knowing that he would reach out for her.

"I am sorry," Raoul tried as his daughter turned from him. "I reacted badly."

Annalise turned back in time to see her father drop his hand. "What did I do that was so wrong?" Her huge eyes searched his face. "What?"

"You did nothing wrong," Raoul told her.

"Then why?" Annalise demanded as she felt the tears threaten to begin again.

"That music," Raoul begin with a sigh, "that music was something that your mother sang a long time ago in the opera house that was destroyed. When we heard you singing, it startled and frightened both of us."

"But it is only music!"

"It is not the music, Annalise, so much as it is the memories it evokes ..."

"The fire," Annalise interrupted quietly.

"The fire," Raoul willingly lied to his daughter. "Those were frightening times for your mother and I feared for her. Even now, there are certain sounds and images that bring all those events flooding back. This day, unfortunately, you were caught up in our fears." He held out his hands to his daughter. "There are no words to say how sorry I am that I frightened and hurt you. I only hope you will eventually be able to forgive me."

A sob escaped Annalise's lips and she flung herself into her father's arms, feeling them close about her. She cried there quietly for a few moments, feeling her father stroke her hair, murmuring to her as he did when she had been a small child. "I am so sorry," she finally managed to say. "I never meant to hurt you or Maman."

Annalise felt her father draw away from her, raising her chin so that she could look into his eyes. "Your mother is right, we are both impossible," Raoul told her as he reached out to touch her cheek. "You will never know how sorry I am for what I did to you. And you did nothing wrong, you understand? Nothing!"

"I understand, Papa," Annalise addressed her father as if she were a child again. She sighed. "I only wish I knew how that sheet of music got into the book. Maybe it was just an accident."

"I do not know," Raoul said as he took his daughter's arm, "but I intend to find out for I do not believe in accidents."

Annalise leaned her head against his shoulder. "I know that you shall." She squeezed the arm that held hers. "I love you." Annalise could feel the tension fade from her father's shoulder and knew she had told him what he needed to hear.

"I love you," Raoul replied, kissing the top of her head. "More than you will ever know. Now let us go and reassure your mother that we are, once again, on speaking terms."

"And then can we go riding?" Annalise wanted to know.

"Then we can go riding," Raoul chuckled as they left the room, closing the door behind them.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Summary: As her parent's secrets begin to be revealed, Annalise has a strange premonition and finds herself drawn deeper into emotions raised by her two suitors. Andrew reveals a secret of his own.

Chapter Thirteen

July was quickly fading, taking with it the comfortable heat of mid-summer and replacing it with the typical humidity of a Parisian August. Soon all those who could afford to do so would flee to the comfort of the country and seaside but for the moment there were still parties to attend, cafes to be seen in, assignations to be made, whims and fancies to be indulged. There were also sisters to be found and Gustave was having a difficult time accomplishing just that.

He had looked in all the usual locations where Annalise could be found - her room, the music room and the library without success. He had even ventured into the unfamiliar territory of the kitchen in hopes that, just maybe, Annalise would be in there annoying the cooks as she tried to learn their secrets. The housekeeper, a formidable woman who did not take kindly to young men being in places they did not belong, had quickly shooed Gustave out. He had stood in the back hallway, thinking, and decided to give the gardens a try in the hope that his sister would have enough sense to remain within the walled grounds. Gustave knew Annalise was not just some scatter-brained chit barely out of the nursery but had a fine mind in her pretty little head - when she chose to use it. He hoped she would remember the strict rules that had been laid out since that damnable music had arrived and stay within the grounds.

Gustave walked down the hallway and out the door. He stood on the back portico, his eyes scanning the gardens, finding no sign of his sister. It was not as if she could hide in the wide open, sunny gardens. Gustave could feel his temper begin to rise; if Annalise had so much as even ventured out that back gate there would be hell to pay for both of them. It would also mean dinner that night with Andrew and Katherine would be completely out of the question. He turned around to go back into the house so that he could check the front gardens when he saw his sister standing at the open windows of their father's study. Gustave quickly walked down the portico.

"What are you doing?" he hissed angrily at her as he stopped by her side.

Annalise turned around, a finger to her lips. "Shhh," she said quietly, "I am trying to listen to what Maman and Father are saying."

"You are going to get into so much trouble ..." Gustave started but was silenced by the look his sister shot him.

"Just listen!" she told him as she pulled him closer so that they could hear the words drifting from the study.

"Nothing!" Raoul was saying. "They have found nothing! I send out the best men I know and they could find nothing!"

"Perhaps there was nothing to find," Christine's voice came out through the open window.

"I cannot believe that."

"Maybe it really was just an accident."

"An accident? An accident?" Their father's voice sounded incredulous. "After everything that happened, after everything that he did to you, you can actually think that sheet of music finding its way into this home was an accident?"

"_Mon Dieu_, Raoul, you were the one who said that it was finished! Do you still think that he would hurt me and after all this time? We do not even know if he is still alive!" Their mother sounded exasperated. "Why can you not accept the fact that that music coming here was just an accident? Bonnard's is a big store, full of many books and papers, things just happen."

"Things never just happened where he was concerned! He wanted you; he always wanted you. What better way to get to you than to bide his time and wait until your children were grown - when he could have mother and daughter."

There was a long silence.

"I made my choice that night, Raoul," their mother's voice carried a tone that Annalise and Gustave had never heard before. "I have never regretted it. Do not make me regret it now."

A door slammed shut and something could be heard shattering into pieces.

"Damn you to perdition!" Raoul shouted.

Gustave tugged gently on his sister's arm and they moved quietly down the portico and into the gardens. They walked in silence until they came to an ornate bench where they sat down. Gustave took his sister's hands in his own and could feel them shaking.

"What is happening?" Annalise asked in a soft voice, tears threatening to start.

"I wish I knew," her brother answered.

Annalise looked up and into her brother's eyes. He quickly looked away. "You do know something!" she sniffled.

Gustave shook his head. "No," he replied, remembering the promise he made to his father and understanding a bit more of the "why" behind the reasons his father had for asking him to have a care for his sister.

"Yes, you do!" Annalise insisted. "Tell me!" She took back her hands and shook his arm. "Who were they taking about?"

"I do not know who they were talking about!" Gustave truthfully insisted as he turned back to look at his sister. "God, I wish I did!" He looked at his sister - the fear and uncertainty on her face made him relent just a little in the promise made to his father. "I will say that Father is concerned for your safety and happiness."

"I know that! I am not a silly little dolt!" Annalise sat quietly for a moment before standing and extending a hand to her brother. "Well, if Father is so concerned about my happiness then I think I should go out and be happy. Let's get ready for dinner. I want to have a lovely meal with our friends and dance until I have holes in my slippers!"

"Annalise ..."

Annalise fixed her brother with such a look of fierce determination that he was not sure for a moment who stood before him. "I want to obey Father's wishes and be happy. Are you coming or not?"

Gustave got to his feet. "I am coming but I swear to you if you even step one foot out of line tonight, I will tell Father and you will never get out of this house until you are an old lady!"

"I may not live to be an old lady," Annalise whispered to herself, not knowing from where the thought had come.

Gustave noted the frown on her face, saw her lips move but only heard jumbled words. "What did you say?"

"I said I do not want to be an old lady tonight," Annalise replied, a smile on her face. "I want to be young and happy and float on the music."

Gustave held out his arm for her to take. "Then let us go and get ready and I shall see that all your wishes are granted, fairy princess."

The angry words exchanged between her parents, the secretive distance from her brother, the strange premonition, all these things raced through Annalise's mind as her maid helped her ready for the evening out. They were there as she slipped into her powder-blue gown, slipping aquamarines into her hair and ears, a matching necklace encircling her throat. They were seated next to her during the ride into Paris. They watched as she entered the crowded, popular restaurant with her brother and friends. They stared at her from her dinner plate.

"And Andrew has promised to take me bicycle riding in the park tomorrow!" Katherine was saying, her excitement shining in her eyes.

"Only if she promises to do better at riding on something with two wheels than she does on something with four feet!" Andrew laughed.

"As long as everyone is telling their promises," Annalise said with a smile to her brother, "I am going to hold you to your promise."

"What promise would that be?" Andrew wondered.

"I promised to grant her whatever she wished for the evening," Gustave said somewhat ruefully.

"And what are you wishing for?" Katherine asked.

"The moon," Annalise told her, a half-smile on her face. "Tonight I settle for nothing less than the moon."

A small band began to play dance music to the sound of chairs scraping across the floor as couples all over the restaurant stood, making their way onto the dance floor. Andrew rose, extending his hand to Annalise. "I cannot promise you the moon but, perhaps, you would like to dance on the clouds?"

Annalise's eyes grew wide with amazement. "I should like that, very much," she replied.

Gustave smiled at Katherine as Andrew and Annalise made their way onto the dance floor. "Shall we? I do not think they should be the ones having all the fun tonight." He was rewarded with a huge smile and a gloved hand.

"Why did you look so amazed when I asked you to dance?" Andrew wondered and was surprised to see Annalise blush. "What?"

"I ... " Annalise found she could not meet his eyes and words escaped her.

Andrew sighed. "Do you truly think I am that much of a beastly American that I would not know how to speak to a lovely young woman?" There was no answer. "Do you?" Andrew wondered.

"Yes. I mean no. I mean ..," Annalise told him as she lifted her eyes, the blush not fading from her cheeks. " I do not know what I think," she sighed, a smile playing across her lips. "I really am the silly little dolt I told my brother I was this afternoon."

"I find you neither silly or a dolt," Andrew assured her. "I find you sweet and kind and I know that I will miss you terribly when I return home."

Something in Annalise sank. "When must you go?"

"By the end of September, mid-October at the latest, so that we can safely cross the Atlantic and be home and settled in time for holidays." Andrew looked deeply into Annalise's eyes. "Do you want me to go? All you need to do is ask me to stay and I'll not leave."

Annalise had to remember how to breathe as she looked into Andrew's soft brown eyes. There was something there she did not recognize; it was deeper warmth than she had ever seen before. It was as if he was looking right into her heart and squeezing it with his gaze. She almost felt as if he could devour her right there on the dance floor. Annalise found she could not even find the words to reply, feeling as if Andrew possessed her body and soul. It was a new and strange feeling and it scared her.

"I should not have expected an answer," Andrew was saying.

"What?" Annalise finally managed, not having heard a word he said after "go".

"Nothing," he told her as the couples around them began to clap. "I believe the music is over." A strange look crossed his face. "Ah. I think you have another dance partner." He bowed slightly as Michaud Deschene approached. "Sir."

Michaud bowed back. "Do I intrude?" he wondered.

Andrew took Annalise's hand, giving it to Michaud. "No. Our dance is over." He looked at Annalise with a strange smile and walked back to the table where Gustave and Katherine were just taking their seats.

"I do seem to be in the habit of interrupting when you are with your American friend, do I not?" Michaud asked. "My manners and timing are sadly lacking and highly deplorable. Shall I return you to your brother and your guests?"

The music had begun again and Annalise stared at Michaud. "No," she told him with a smile. "I should like it very much if we were to dance."

Michaud laid a hand over his heart. "You honor me," he replied as he took Annalise into his arms and began dancing her across the floor.

Annalise closed her eyes, allowing the music to wash over her, trusting this man to guide her. The feeling of being in his arms was one of comfort and security. She could not categorize as easily the emotions that washed through her as Michaud gently caressed her back, where his hand rested, with a single finger. The sensation was warm and wonderful and made her whole body feel as if it were on fire, her head feel lighter. Annalise would have sworn that her feet did not touch the floor. She finally opened her eyes to find Michaud looking at her with such tenderness that it took her breath away and she found she could not draw her gaze from his as he swept her along with the music.

"What is it with him?" Andrew wondered. He sat alone at the table with Gustave; Katherine having accepted an invitation to dance from a young man she had met several times previously.

"You are asking me?" Gustave asked. "I have no idea as I am not a seventeen year old girl with stars in her eyes."

"And I could not give her the moon so she obviously found it with someone else."

Gustave looked at his friend. "Are you in love with my sister?" There was no answer. "Are you?"

"And if I was?"

"I would not have a problem with it."

"What about your parents?"

"Ah," Gustave replied with a grimace.

Andrew thought he knew the answer. "Right. The brash young American is not good enough for their daughter." He looked at Annalise and Michaud. "I could cheerfully kill him."

"I never said that my parents would not think you were not good enough for ..." Gustave paused. "What did you just say?"

Andrew was still looking at Annalise in the arms of another man. "I said I could cheerfully kill the man who is currently dancing with you sister." He finally turned his gaze to look at his friend. "I am going to tell you something that no one outside of my family knows and you must promise to never let anyone know."

Gustave was getting a little tired of being the keeper of everyone's secrets but he nodded his assent.

"When I was thirteen, I was out riding on the edges of my family's property with one of the farm hands. He was teaching me about fence repair. It was dusk and we were getting ready to go back home when we heard a noise in the distance. The man I was with told me to stay where I was and he rode off. The next thing I know I heard a loud scuffle and a shot was fired. I dug my heels into my horse's flanks and went to see what happened. When I drew up, I found the farm hand on the ground bleeding from a wound to his leg and a couple of men trying to rustle a calf. They pointed a gun at me." Andrew ran a hand through his hair. "God! I was only thirteen! I had no choice."

"You shot them?" Gustave asked, his brows knitted in amazement.

"One of them. I had been shooting since I could hold a gun and I always carried one with me when I went riding. I killed the one I had shot. The other one went fleeing into the darkness and the man I was with ... he sent me back to the house for help. He recovered from his wound and told the authorities that he had fired the fatal shot so that I would not get into trouble and bring a scandal down on my parents' good name." He laughed with no mirth. "I have had to live with this for the last eight years and it makes me crazy at times." Andrew fixed Gustave with a deadly look. "And you must never tell. Ever! Katherine does not even know."

"I promise never to tell," Gustave told him. This was a side of his friend that he had never seen and was not sure what to make of it. "But you surely would not ..."

"Kill that man for dancing with your sister?" Andrew finished. "No. I never want to go through that again. It is obvious, though, that Annalise prefers him to me. I guess I should just bow out of the picture and let her have what she wants."

"She does not know what she wants." Gustave leaned back in his chair. "And my parents would find you an admirable suitor for Annalise. I did not mean for you to think otherwise. It is just that, at the moment, things are a bit strained at home. Something is going on with our parents and until it goes away or is resolved or something, I do not really think they are going to be in the mood to hear anything about anyone wanting to court Annalise." He nodded his head towards his sister. "Why do you think she is in the mood she is in tonight? Whatever is going on with our parents is affecting all of us."

"I am sorry for you, then," Andrew told him, "and I shall continue to be the brother's best friend and walk away quietly when the time comes for me to take Katherine and return home."

"Don't go too quietly," Gustave said. "I shall be in your corner and advocate for you, should you wish. I think you would be good for my sister."

Andrew managed a weak smile. "Thanks." He looked towards Annalise. She was positively glowing in the arms of her dance partner and Andrew's weak smile turned into a firm grimace. "I wonder if she feels the same way."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Summary: Andrew leaves Paris and will not say why. Annalise finds herself drawn to Michaud who also announces he must leave town. And another "present" is delivered.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Katherine watched sadly as her brother packed a small bag with a few clothes and some toiletries. "Why must you go?" she asked.

"Because there are things I must do," Andrew told her.

"But where are you going?"

"Away for a few days."

"Why?"

Andrew whirled around. "Because I have things to prepare, Kitt. Is that all right with you?" the exasperation he felt fading at the look on his sister's face. "I do not mean to yell at you and I am sorry. I am just aggravated and irritated and bothered beyond all reason and I feel like I must do something about it."

Katherine looked worried. "I have not made you angry, have I?"

"I could never be angry with you," Andrew told her, managing a small smile.

"Are you angry with Annalise?"

Trust a child to be able to see beyond the pretences to the honesty kept inside. Andrew walked over to sit next to his sister, taking her hand. "I love her, Kitt," he admitted out loud for the first time. "I do not think I truly knew how much I have come to love her until I saw her dancing with Michaud Deschene the other night. I wanted her to look at me like that. I wanted to be the one to put the stars in her eyes. I wanted ... it doesn't matter what I wanted now." Andrew sighed. "She is in my every thought, Kitt! I love so much it hurts and from this point on I intend to fight. So I have decided to do something about it."

Katherine looked puzzled. "Is that why you have been going out on your own so very much?"

Andrew stood and walked over to collect his small suitcase. "Partly," he replied in a quiet tone.

"But where are you going now? This is not home! You will get lost!"

Andrew walked back to where his sister sat and. "I know enough, Kitt, to know where I need to go, how to get there, accomplish what I must do and return." He sighed and took her hand. "You need to trust me on this and not say a word to anyone. You must promise me that you will not tell - especially Annalise. I know you both share secrets but this is one you must keep close to your heart. Promise me."

Katherine looked at her brother and wondered at the strange glow in the back of his eyes. This was a side of him she had never seen before and it confused her; yet, she loved him and would do anything he asked of her. "I promise," she told him. "But you will be back in time for our cousin's birthday celebration, yes? Maybe you can talk to Annalise then and tell her how you feel."

"I will be back in two days, time enough to gather together for our cousin's celebration. And I shall think about talking with Annalise. That is my promise to you." He held out his hand. "Now walk with me down to the door and give me a proper send-off."

Smiling, Katherine took his hand, still feeling that something was just not right about her brother. She could not explain what it was she was feeling and decided it was because of the inexperience of her youth. Maybe when she grew older and fell in love, she, too, would act this way. "Would you like me to talk to Annalise for you?"

"No," Andrew shook his head. "I will fight my own battles and in my own way." Andrew was surprised when he felt his sister sigh. "What?"

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"That it would be wonderful if you could find a wise friend like Monsieur Lachaise." Too late Katherine realized what she had let slip and her free hand flew to her mouth.

Andrew stopped at the bottom step and looked at his sister curiously. "And just who is this Monsieur Lachaise?"

Katherine bit her bottom lip. "I was not supposed to tell," she replied.

"I will not say a word," Andrew told her as he crossed his heart, "but I am not leaving until you tell me just who this Monsieur Lachaise is." Andrew was amazed at the strength of his sister's grip on his arm. "I will not tell!" he assured her.

"When Annalise was visiting her great-aunt she met the man who lives next door. She said the village children think he is a monster because he lives in what used to be a monastery that fell to ruin and he is never seen in the village." Katherine thought for a moment and since she had revealed half of the secret, and knowing that her trust in her brother had never been betrayed, she felt safe enough telling him the rest of what her friend had told her. "Annalise met him in the woods when she was walking one day. She said he is very nice but very lonely and she has been writing to him without her parents knowing about it. She says he is her special confidante, a man who has seen much of the world and knows all the answers to her questions."

Andrew shook his head. "There are times when I do not think I will ever understand how the female mind works." He took his sister's chin in one hand, looking into her eyes. "I shall not tell her secret for I would do nothing to hurt the friendship you both share."

"But ..."

"But, in return, you must promise me that you will never get involved in a situation like that. You have no idea what even the nicest of people are capable of doing at any moment. And should Annalise get into trouble with this strange friend, you must tell her parents. You understand?"

Katherine looked confused. "No ... I mean ... yes ... I mean ... I promise."

"Good. Now kiss me goodbye and I shall see you in two days time." Andrew received a quick kiss on the cheek before hugging his sister and walking out the front door of his cousin's residence. He handed his small suitcase to the waiting footman and climbed into the coach, closing the door behind him. Andrew settled back against the velvet cushions, eyes closed, as the coach made its way through the crowded streets of Paris. His thoughts always wandered back to Annalise and he struggled very hard not to think about whom it was she might be with while he was gone. Andrew reached over and pulled the small shade on the coach window down so that the outside light would be dimmed. He found that thinking about Annalise with that man gave him a headache. In the dim interior Andrew did not notice as the coach passed the townhouse of Jean-Paul, Annalise's eldest brother. He would have been happy to see a familiar carriage parked at the curb. It was the other carriage and other occupant at the townhouse that would have further aggravated, irritated and bothered him beyond all reason.

Michaud Deschene sat at the dining table having been invited to lunch with his school friend, Jean-Paul, and his wife, Therese. He was surprised to find Annalise there. Michaud had been even more surprised when Jean-Paul told him that Annalise had been the one to suggest he join them at their weekly luncheon. Michaud crossed his knife and fork on his plate and turned his attention to his hostess.

"That was wonderful," he told her with a smile. "I find myself looking forward to these invitations. The culinary life of a bachelor leaves much to be desired."

"Then you must find yourself a lovely young lady and settle down to wedded bliss," Therese replied, a smile on her face. "Or find an excellent cook!" She looked down the table at her husband. "I think we should go and check on Bertrand. He can be a bit trying when he is put down for a nap." She stood, her husband and Michaud rose to their feet.

"Kiss him again for me," Annalise said, a soft glow in her eyes.

Her brother walked over and hugged her shoulders. "Only if it will not wake him," Jean-Paul told her. "And when you wish to leave, let me know and I shall get your carriage ready." He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Do not do anything foolish," he said. "You know none of us can lie to our parents and I am too old to get a lecture from Father or disproving looks from Maman."

Annalise giggled, turning her head to give her brother a quick kiss. "I promise. I don't want a lecture or looks, either," she whispered back. "Thank you."

Jean-Paul returned his sister's kiss and straightened, extending his hand to his wife. "Shall we?" Therese took the hand offered and Jean-Paul turned his attention to Michaud. "Are you attending the birthday celebration at the American embassy in two days time?"

"I have received the invitation but, sadly, I had to decline," Michaud told him. "I must attend to personal business in the country and shall be away from Paris for some time, I fear."

Jean-Paul extended his hand as he led his wife from the room. "Well, then, I wish you much luck in a successful conclusion to your business and look forward to your return."

"You shall come and visit us when you return, yes?" Therese wanted to know.

Michaud placed his hand over his heart. "Madame, that is an offer I shall eagerly accept." He was rewarded with a smile from the lovely red-head and then she was sweeping out of the room on her husband's arm.

Michaud turned to look at Annalise. "Shall we go to the balcony?" He took the shy smile as an acknowledgement, walked over and drew back Annalise's chair, taking her arm and leading her through the French doors and onto the balcony that overlooked the back garden. Michaud let her go, watching her as she walked over to lean against the wrought iron railing. "I wish I knew what you were thinking," he told her.

Annalise turned around. "I am thinking how glad I am that you were here today."

"Are you? Truly?"

"I am," Annalise replied with a small smile.

"Then I am content," Michaud replied as he walked over to stand next to Annalise. "And I shall take that contentment with me on my journey. It shall be a bright light in an otherwise dark time."

"Where do you go that could be so dark?"

"I must deal with the residual effects of the fire that took my parents from me," Michaud sighed and reached for Annalise's hand.

Annalise remembered years earlier when Jean-Paul had come home from school all excited. She had listened at the door to her father's study as Jean-Paul told of the awful fire that had claimed the lives of his friend's parents. She remembered hearing that Michaud, too, had been in the house when the fire had started and had barely escaped with his life. She was drawn back to the present by the sound of Michaud's voice.

"I have been trying to ignore these things since my return but they will be ignored no longer." He was pleasantly surprised when he felt his hand receive a gentle squeeze.

"It must be very sad for you," Annalise told him. "I would not like to think how I would feel were I to lose both my parents. The very thought frightens me beyond all reason!"

"Dear child, not everyone is as fortunate in their parents as you and your brothers." Michaud's brow knitted in a frown. "My parents were not kind or pleasant and I did not have the childhood for which I longed. I am sorry that they had to die but I have moved past my loss. It is just hard to visit our country home and smell the smoke that still lingers there." He shrugged. "But I must for the time has come for me to try and sell what remains and move into my future." He took Annalise by both arms and turned her to face him. "It is a future that I hope would not be spent alone."

Annalise felt herself, once again, being pulled through the depths of Michaud's dark eyes and into his very soul. She did not try to fight as all thought - except of the man standing before her - fled her mind. She reached up to touch the arms that held her so gently, not knowing or caring what words passed her lips. "I would not want you to spend it alone," she breathed.

"I would give up everything to have you, to keep you by my side," Michaud breathed back, the intensity of his whisper seeming to draw the very breath from Annalise. "Everything!"

They stood for a moment, eyes locked, breathing in rhythm, unable and unwilling to move and destroy the moment. It was Michaud who finally broke the spell by gently removing Annalise's hands from his arms, holding on to one, raising it to his lips.

"_Mignonnette_, there is truly nothing I desire more in this world than to have you by my side for all my days. It is so very easy to love you and I find it is very difficult to refrain from declaring my love for you to all of Paris!" Michaud laid his free hand over his heart. "Nay, to all the universe! I wish everyone to know the depths of my desire for you."

Annalise could only stare at him.

"But I think," he continued somewhat sadly, "that there is another of whom you think."

"No," Annalise shook her head. "No, there is not. No ... I mean yes ... yes there is. No, wait ..."

Michaud reached out a finger to touch her lips. "I have flustered you and I pray you will forgive me for that. I know there is another; I am not such a fool to think I would be the only one to occupy your thoughts. So I will go into the country and let your heart choose without any pressure from me. I shall return in a week's time and hope I will have the answer I seek by then. If not," he smiled at the girl in his arms, "I shall wait till the end of forever to hear the words for which I long." He gave a last kiss to the hand he held and was gone.

Annalise slowly raised a hand to her lips. She could still feel the touch of his finger, as real and alive as if it still rested there. She reached out the other hand for the balcony railing, finding she needed support, as she was sure her legs would fall from beneath her. She could hear her heart pound and the world began to spin in front of her eyes. It was then that Annalise remembered she needed to breathe. She stood for a moment drawing breaths that slowly evened out, growing deeper, trying to sort out the feelings that seemed to be consuming her. She was excited and scared, full and empty, content and nervous all at the same time. She could barely remember her own name yet could not forget his touch or the depths of the eyes in which she had swum.

She struggled with those emotions as she said good-bye to her brother. Annalise had noticed that Jean-Paul looked at her curiously and she knew he could tell that something had happened. She said nothing to his unasked question but that she had much to think on. Jean-Paul had let it go at that and Annalise knew why he had done nothing but place her in the carriage, watching as it drove away. She knew - as surely as her brother -that this was something she would never be able to hide from their parents. Annalise struggled all through the ride home to gain some control over her racing, jumbled feelings as she sought just the right words to explain what she knew she would never be able keep secret.

The ride home passed far too quickly.

"Are my parents at home?" she asked the footman who opened the front door for her.

"Madame la Comtesse is in her parlor," he told Annalise. "She left instructions that you were to go to her when you arrived home."

What little control she had gained during the trip home left Annalise as she walked down the hallway, stopping at the door to her mother's parlor. She drew a long even breath and let it out slowly before she knocked lightly and opened the door. "Maman," she said as she entered the sunny room, "you wished to see me."

Christine looked up from the book she was reading, a smile on her face for her only daughter. "I did," she began and paused as she noted the heightened color on Annalise's cheeks. She held out a hand. "My dear, what on earth went on at luncheon?"

Annalise crossed the room to sit by her mother's side. "We had lunch and it was very nice," she tried and lowered her eyes at her mother's knowing look. "Please do not ask me," she said softly. "I do not even know what happened."

"I'll not pry," Christine told her, "but do not let your father see the emotions that are written on your face. He will not take 'no' for an answer as well as I do." She laughed softly. "Oh, to be young and in love."

Annalise felt herself turning red from the tips of her fingers to the top of her head.

"Perhaps," her mother said as she reached for the table next to the loveseat, "this will help to take your mind off this matter you do not wish to discuss." She handed Annalise a square gold box tied with a bright pink ribbon.

"What is this?" Annalise wondered as she took the box from her mother's hands, gently fingering the soft satin ribbon.

"I believe, my silly child, it is a gift from an admirer. They were bound to begin coming as young men seek to gain your attention." Christine sighed. "This day has come far too soon for my liking."

"Who is it from?"

"You may wish to open the box and read the card inside."

Annalise looked at her mother, amazement and wonder written on her face. She looked down at the box in her hands, untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. She touched the tissue paper hiding the item beneath. "There is no card," she said.

"Perhaps it is attached to what is under all that paper."

Very carefully, Annalise moved the tissue paper out of the way to reveal the gift she had received. "What a curious gift," she said. "I do not understand."

Now it was her mother's turn to be puzzled. "What is it?" Christine wanted to know.

Annalise reached into the tissue paper and lifted out a gold party mask with two pink roses and matching ribbons attached to one side. "There is no card, Maman," she said as she looked at her mother with curiosity that quickly turned to concern. "Maman?"

"No ... oh dear god ... no," Christine breathed, her hand going to her chest, the color draining from her face.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Summary: Raoul watches as his wife and family begin to fall apart. Another letter is sent, a rose is delivered and the truth is finally told

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Raoul found that he could not sleep. He lay quietly in the bed he shared with his wife, eyes closed, replaying the events of the last days, trying to still the fear growing in his heart and mind. They had thought themselves safe and happy for too long; he should have known it could not have lasted. He had always known that Erik would come back but Raoul had thought it would be for his wife. Now with the arrival of the sheet music and the party mask, it appeared as if The Phantom had, indeed, returned and not for his wife but for his daughter. It was a thought that chilled Raoul to his very soul. He began to roll over, reaching out for Christine, seeking the comfort of her arms, when he heard a strange humming. Raoul opened his eyes. Christine was standing at the window, her back to him, a taut silhouette in the bright moonlight. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her waist and she was humming.

"Christine?" Raoul tried.

The humming stopped. "He's still there, Raoul," Christine whispered into the darkness. "He still sings in my head. I thought he had gone away," she hung her head. "But he will never let me go. It will never be over."

His heart breaking for her, Raoul got out of bed to embrace his wife. He felt Christine stiffen at his touch and let her go.

"Now he wants to take my child from me," Christine continued, not even knowing that it was her husband who had reached out for her. "He will take her into his darkness and we will never see her again. She will be lost in the depths of Hell, listening to the music in her head, never knowing if there will be anyone to save her."

There was confusion mingling with the fear in his wife's mind of that Raoul was certain. Christine was talking almost as if Annalise were herself, all those years ago, on the night that the opera house had burned and Erik had forcibly taken her away in front of everyone. It had broken his heart then to see her caught up in Erik's spell, knowing that he had asked and convinced her to participate in their plan to catch him against her better instincts. He had been unable to do little but watch as events unfolded before him, the care of everyone present that night his responsibility. Now, though, it was just the two of them and Raoul, once again, reached for his wife, unwilling to let her go.

"Raoul," Christine said pitifully as she turned around to face him, "why? Why my baby? Why?"

It was a question for which he did not have an answer. Raoul looked into his wife's eyes as they searched his face, seeking, pleading for an answer to a question that terrified them both. It was a look he had seen before and had hoped to never see again and as Christine began to cry, Raoul drew her into his arms, letting her silently sob out her fears on his shoulder. All he could do was hold her and hope that it was some comfort for Raoul was unable to find any peace or comfort in his own soul.

He finally drew back, as Christine's shoulders stopped shaking and her breathing became easier. "It will be morning soon. We should try and get some rest," he told her. "Come."  
He led her back to their bed, pulling her into his arms, drawing the summer linens around them. They lay there like that, lost in their own thoughts and fears, until the sun began to lighten the room, chasing away the cold fingers of the night.

While the bright summer sun had chased away the darkness of the night, it did little to chase away the lingering shadows that permeated the de Chagny home. There was an almost palpable tension in the air as if some unseen presence was haunting the very corridors. Christine, her face pale and drawn, would jump at every strange sound. Raoul remained in his study, papers unread before him, lost in the far recesses of old memories and unresolved feelings. Annalise and Gustave, forbidden from leaving their home, retreated to their own corners to watch as their parents became two individual ghosts who exchanged furtive glances and barely spoken words.

Annalise felt herself responsible for the strange and sad turn of events. She did not know what she had done wrong or who it was who had sent the odd gifts that had tossed her world upside down but she was certain it was her fault. She longed to speak with someone but knew that her parents were beyond her reach. She had looked to her brother but the frown on his face chased her away, up the stairs and into her bedroom. She sat down at her dressing table, fighting back the tears that were threatening. There seemed to be no one to whom she could turn. She opened the top drawer, reaching in and pulling out a handkerchief; it was then that she noticed the white handkerchief with the black edges and black embroidery. Suddenly Annalise knew to whom she could pour out her fears in safety. She eagerly took stationery from the box on the dressing table and began to write a letter.

Fifteen minutes later, she was signing her name with a sigh and reaching up to wipe away the tears that had never stopped all the while she had been writing. She was wiping away the moisture that had run onto her neck when she felt the delicate chain that rested there. Annalise gave a small smile as she undid the clasp, removing the chain and locket to hold them in her hands. She opened the locket and looked at the two miniatures hidden inside - one of her and one of her mother; the locket a gift from her father when she had turned sixteen but a year earlier. She slipped the locket into some tissue paper that she pulled from a drawer and placed the locket and letter into the envelope that she had addressed to Monsieur Pfieffer. Annalise stood, leaving her bedroom and walking down the stairs. She found her brother sulking in a chair by the front door.

"Have you seen Rachel?" she asked him.

Gustave looked at her. "Why? Do you think you are going to get out of here if you take your maid with you?"

"No," Annalise told him. "I know we cannot leave. I just want Rachel to post a letter for me."

"She'll need to take one of the footmen with her. Father has forbidden any female of this household to leave unless they have a male escort." Gustave narrowed his eyes at his sister. "And you cannot leave at all so do not even think about it."

"I was not thinking any such thing," Annalise told him as she turned to the footman who always waited by the door. "Can you find Rachel and bring her to me?" He stood and headed towards the back of the house. Annalise turned her attention back to her brother. "Are you going to sulk all day or would you like to come and play music with me? I am tired of crying and need something to cheer me."

"There is obviously nothing else we can do," Gustave said with a shrug as he stood. "I might as well join you."

"So now I am reduced to a 'might as well'?" Annalise wondered.

"You know I did not mean that."

Before Annalise could reply, Rachel and the footman came back. Annalise smiled at her maid and handed her the letter. "Can you please see that this gets posted today? And you will need to take someone with you as I am sure you have heard Father's orders."

Rachel took the envelope handed to her. "I shall fetch the carriage and an extra groom from the stables. I'll not be gone long." She dropped a small curtsey and was gone back the way she had come.

The footman was holding a long, thin box in his hands. "Mademoiselle," he addressed Annalise, "the housekeeper asked me to bring this. It was delivered to the service entrance and is addressed to you." He handed Annalise the box and resumed his seat by the front door.

"Not another gift," Annalise sighed, a touch of despair in her voice.

"Do you want me to open it?" Her brother asked.

Annalise handed him the box. "Please?"

Gustave removed the stop of the box, pulling out a single red rose with a black satin ribbon tied around the stem. "What kind of a person would send something like this?"

"Send something like what?" they heard a familiar female voice, full of apprehension, ask.

Brother and sister turned to see their mother standing in the hallway, a cup of tea in her hands. They saw her eyes widen at the sight of the rose in her son's hand, the cup and saucer slipping from her fingers to shatter on the marble tile. The sound of the breaking china brought their father from his study.

"What is wrong ..." Raoul began as he looked at the china pieces scattered beneath his feet. He saw his wife staring at her son and followed her gaze. It took but a moment for Raoul to react. He walked over to his son. 

"Give me that," he ordered.

Gustave handed over the rose and the box. "Sir ..." he tried.

"Not a word," Raoul warned. He looked at his daughter. "From either of you, is that understood?" He looked at the footman. "You will send for Jean-Paul, Richard, their wives and children. They are to come here immediately. Tell them it is an order from me and I will accept no disobedience, is that clear?" The footman nodded and Raoul turned back to his children. "You will both sit on the chairs outside your mother's parlor and you will not move from there until I give you leave. Now go."

Annalise took the hand her brother offered and walked with him down the side hallway. She turned to look back and saw her father taking her mother into his arms, holding her tightly as she sank to the floor, her sobs echoing off the fine plaster walls. "It is only a rose," Annalise tried as she and brother sat on the two chairs opposite the door to the parlor.

"I have a funny feeling it is more than the rose or the mask or the music," Gustave told her. He looked up as Raoul led Christine into the parlor, closing the doors behind them. "And I think we had better sit here quietly until they are ready to tell us what is going on."

So they sat for the better part of an hour, listening to the words that drifted through the closed doors, struggling to understand what little they could hear.

"But we promised!" Christine said.

"I don't care!" Raoul replied.

"He let you go! He let us go!"

"He wants to take our daughter!"

"What if he kills you this time?"

"I don't care."

"I do!"

The words were frightening and Annalise reached out for her brother's hand, looking up as she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Jean-Paul and Richard, their wives by their sides, had arrived.

"What is happening?" Richard asked as he noted the strain on the faces of his younger brother and sister.

The parlor door opened and Raoul came out. "Good," he addressed his older sons, "you have arrived. I need you all to come and have a seat. There is something your mother and I must tell you." He stood aside, letting his children enter the sunny parlor. "Where are Chloe and Bertrand?"

"We sent them up to the nursery," Leonie replied. "Is that not what we should have done?"

Raoul favored his daughter-in-law with a slight smile and touch of his hand upon her arm. "It is fine," he told her, closing the door. He turned to face the room, noting that all of the children had taken a seat. He went to stand behind the chair in which Christine sat, taking her hand as she reached over her shoulder for the comfort of his familiar touch. "There is something that all of you need to know. It is something that we had hoped you would never need to know but the events of the last few days, the music, the mask and, now, the rose with the black ribbon, have necessitated breaking a vow that your mother made long ago."

Christine could not look at her children and turned her eyes to the fireplace. "I promised to never tell," she whispered softly. "I promised him I would never tell." It seemed to her family that she was struggling with inner demons.

"I want each of you to just sit quietly and listen," Raoul told them as he took a deep sigh. "You all know the story of how your mother and I met and the fire that destroyed the opera house. I am sure you have heard the whispers that float about regarding other events the night of the fire. It is time you know the truth behind those whispers." He reached down his free hand to place it gently on Christine's shoulder. "The legends of the opera ghost are true. There really was a Phantom of the Opera."

There was a stunned silence in the room.

"There was a man who had been hidden in the tunnels under the opera house when he was just a young boy," Raoul continued. "He had been born with a deformity and was rescued by Madame Giry from the gypsies when they were both little more than children. "

Annalise found she could not lift her eyes to look at her parents.

Raoul continued, "He lived his whole life in those tunnels and when your mother came to live at the opera house, he saw her and knew she was mourning the loss of her father. He let her believe he was the angel her father had promised her and began to teach her to sing. This ghost … this phantom … had a name. His name was Erik."

No one noticed that Annalise had stopped breathing or that her hands were clasped so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Christine picked up the story, filling in the pieces that she had lived through. "You know that your father and I had met when we were small children and never saw each after that summer. When I saw your father again – that night at the opera house – he was so sweet and came to me as a friend and not as the opera's patron. He was kind and gracious and everything I would have expected him to be. We did not know that Erik was watching us through the mirror in the dressing room and that he looked upon your father as intruding upon what he regarding as his possession." Christine continued to stare into the fireplace. "He killed a stagehand, he poisoned another woman's vocal cords so that she could not sing and I would take her place and he was furious with your father for having dared to fall in love with me."

"It was so easy to fall in love with your mother," Raoul told them. "I asked her to marry me and she said yes but insisted that our engagement remain a secret."

"I wore your father's engagement ring on a chain around my neck." Christine bit her bottom lip. "I think, even then, I know something would happen. There was a masked ball held at the opera house to celebrate the new season. Erik appeared and tore your father's engagement ring from my neck saying that I was still his." She hung her head. "I think it was then that I began to know he was not my father returned to me. I went to the cemetery to say goodbye to your grandfather and he was there. Erik would have taken me away at that moment but your father had followed us. There was a fight and your father was wounded."

"It was nothing," Raoul said, glossing over the extent of the fight.

"We got away," Christine said, "and your father came up with a plan to capture Erik. My teacher …" She struggled with the tears that threatened to overwhelm her, "had hurt too many people for him to continue on the way he had been. It was your father's responsibility as patron to ensure the safety of everyone there."

"I loved your mother and wanted to see her free of him." Raoul added as he closed his eyes and shook his head. "He had written an opera for your mother and we knew that if she sang, he would not be able to stay away. It was our chance to capture him and see justice done."

"I did not want to do it," Christine breathed softly. "Erik had been my friend, my teacher, my mentor. I did not want to betray him. I was frightened of what he would do when he found out I was the one who had betrayed him but what choice did I have? What choice did I have?" The strain of recalling the events of those final days was beginning to show on her face.

"Christine," Raoul whispered only to her, "it's enough. We can stop here."

"No," Christine told him emphatically, shaking her head. "No. If I am going to break my promise to him, they must know the whole story." She rose to her feet. "I sang that night and Erik came and I fell under his spell again. It was not until he sang your father's words to me that I knew which man held me in his arms. I turned to my teacher … my friend … and … and …" She took a deep breath to steady herself. "I took off the mask he wore, exposing him to everyone. He was furious! He cut the rope to the chandelier and plunged us both through a trap door and into the catacombs of the opera house." She turned to look at her husband. "Your father followed us and nearly drowned in one of the traps set throughout that underground hell." She shuddered as she remembered hearing Raoul tell her of falling through the trapdoor, into the water, the falling grate pushing him under.

"Christine," Raoul tried.

"No!" she nearly shouted. "They need to hear it and I need to say it!" She turned back to her children. "Erik nearly killed your father that night. When your father appeared at the place I was being held, Erik opened the gate to let your father in," Christine raised her hands to her face. "Only it was a trap. Erik surprised your father, flinging a noose around his neck, tying him to that gate, telling me I needed to choose. If I chose your father, Erik would kill him and I could go free; that freedom, though, meant I would have to back to Erik and he knew that. If I chose Erik, he would let your father go but I would need to stay. No matter what I did, I could not win." Christine choked back a sob, closing her eyes. "Your father begged me not to throw away my chance at life while my ..." her voice broke, "teacher, the man who inspired me, the man I thought was my dearest friend kept pulling that noose tighter and tighter. One man was willing to die for me and one was willing to kill for me. What choice did I have?"

Words spoken separately by each parent now made sense to both Annalise and Gustave.

Raoul turned around to look into the empty fireplace, hiding his emotions from the children he so loved.

Christine shook her head sadly. "I had no choice. I went to this man who had given me so very much but would gladly have taken away the one thing I loved most in the world and I tried to show Erik what it was like to be loved. I embraced him like a lover, trying to show him, convince him that he was not alone. I would have done anything at that point to save your father's life."

"He let us go," Raoul added softly. "He made your mother promise to never say a word about what happened and he let us go." He turned back to the room, reaching for the hand that Christine held out to him.

"I made your father promise to keep the same vow," Christine said. "He has honored my request for all these years."

Raoul looked at his wife, managing a small smile. "I could do no less after what you had done for me." He drew his gaze away from Christine to look at the shocked and stunned faces of their children. "But, now, with the arrival of the music that your mother sang the first night we met again after all those years; the mask that so resembles the one she had the night of the masked ball and the rose tied with a black ribbon that was always Erik's signature to her - all of these things make us think he has come back."

Raoul looked at his daughter, her eyes downcast, cheeks pale, the one child in the room who was not looking at them. He knew she would be affected by what she had heard. Raoul had no idea just how deeply affected Annalise was by their words or the turmoil that raged just beneath her surface. He swallowed hard and gripped his wife's hand tighter.

"It looks like he has come back," Raoul began. "And we are afraid that it is Annalise he wants this time."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Summary: Raoul brings his family home for their safety even as his two youngest children drift further and further away. The tensions also begin to take a toll on his relationship with Christine.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The arrival of the haunting gifts from an unknown presence had taken the loving world that Raoul and Christine had created for themselves and turned it upside down and inside out. The long years they had spent putting their past and their fears away were now seemingly in vain as old shadows and ghosts moved into their home and the lives of their family. The echoes of the past made themselves known from every dark corner, through every strange sound and Raoul watched helplessly as his family began to fall apart.

He had asked his older sons, Jean-Paul and Richard, to move their families from their own townhouses in Paris to the family residence just outside the city. He had done it partly out of concern for their safety as Raoul knew that, if the person sending the cruel presents was truly Erik, he would not just stop at one member of his family. Raoul had known he would not rest easy unless he knew exactly where his family was at all times. So his sons had brought their families home and now they spent most of their time behind the closed doors of their rooms, speaking in whispers, trying to hold onto some semblance of normality in their marriages. The other reason as to why he had done such a thing was to have Bertrand and Chloe, the grandchildren, in the same house as Christine in the hope that their happy faces and carefree innocence would bring the smile back to her face.

After the arrival of the rose and the telling of the truth to her children, Christine had withdrawn into herself. It seemed to Raoul that she had reverted to the frightened girl he had first married. She was pale and drawn, barely able to touch her food. Christine had insisted that no more candles be lit and every room she entered - whether morning, noon or night - she would turn on the gas lamps. Raoul had had to explain to his children that the candles reminded their mother of being in The Phantom's lair where hundreds of candles would blaze day and night. It was also why their mother would open draperies wide and check for locked windows and doors; she was always trying to escape from that dark place. There had been more than once when Raoul had awoken in the night to find her gone from their bed, wandering the hallways and humming to her self. She often hummed, barely speaking anymore except to make sure that her daughter was in the house. The only things that could bring back the wife Raoul so loved were two-year old Bertrand and three-month old Chloe.

Bertrand, with his red hair and big blue eyes, loved his grandmother and would sit by her side for hours babbling the nonsense that made perfect sense to every two-year old. He loved to play peek-a-boo with Christine, always laughing when she uncovered her eyes. He would pick an object from whatever room he was in with his grandmother and insist - very loudly - "Story, Grammer!" Little Bertrand, so full of the wonder and joy of life, was one of the few things that could bring the smile back to Christine's face.

Tiny Chloe, so much a de Chagny with her brown hair and blue eyes, was more likely to bring a wistful smile to Christine's face as she cradled the infant in her arms. Chloe looked at the world with the serious, studious gaze of every infant and Christine remembered when her own children were that small and had the same look in their eyes. Chloe, so small and sweet, knew nothing of the turmoil around her and was content to rest in the arms of any who would cuddle her, blowing bubbles, making the baby noises that every mother cherishes. Grateful prayers went up to Heaven as Raoul would watch Christine with Chloe or Bertrand and catch glimpses of the woman to whom he had been married for nearly twenty-five years.

The other greatest pulls on Raoul's emotions, outside of Christine, were his two youngest children. Gustave would spend all day sulking and picking fights with the nearest person until he grew tired of the game at which point he would find the nearest bottle of wine. More often than not, Raoul would find his youngest son sitting in a chair in some corner, a barely touched bottle of wine on the table next to him, a glass smashed against the opposite wall. Gustave may have been slipping into his own dark hole but at least he was not drinking himself into it.

Annalise was not faring any better. She was polite, almost too polite, to everyone around her. It was as if she was trying to compensate for all the pain that had suddenly invaded her world. She would constantly check on all her family to make sure that there was nothing they needed or that she could do for them. Annalise no longer asked to leave the house and she had begun refusing all the letters that had been sent to her. She would just hover over her family or sit quietly in a corner, wracked by demons her family could not even begin to imagine. Raoul despaired as he watched as his bright, sparkling daughter began to turn into an old nursemaid before his eyes.

"We cannot go on like this!" he told Christine after suffering through four days of the sulking and the tears, the nightly walks and the frigid politeness. "We are going to tear ourselves apart!"

"You promised," his wife said in a soft voice as she stared out the library window.

"What?" Raoul had not heard what she said.

Christine turned around to face him. "You promised to guard me. You promised to guard my daughter." Raoul took two steps towards her and stopped when she held up her hands. "Don't," she warned. "Just don't. Everyone promises me things and no one ever keeps their promises!"

"I am doing everything I know how to do! But how am I to fight a ghost?"

"You. Promised." Christine emphasized the words.

They stared at each other, alone in their anger and fear.

Raoul finally broke the silence. "You should have let him kill me that night," Raoul told her. "I have never been able to fight the hold he has on you and now he is taking my family." He shook his head. "I would rather he finished me with one quick jerk of a rope then to have him slowly tear me apart. I love you and I love our children but I cannot go on like this. You cannot go on like this. None of us can go on like this! I will not allow it; not when I know how to stop it." He shrugged his shoulders. "I remember hearing in school that surrender is always painful and seldom wise but that there are times when it is the prudent thing to do. So I surrender. He wins." Raoul turned to walk out the door and was surprised when Christine grabbed him and whirled him around.

"How can you say that to me after all I did for you?" She shouted at him. "I was ready to give him everything I had to give to save your life! I would have gone to his bed to keep you alive! I loved you that much! How dare you stand there and say I should have let you die! How dare you!" Christine then did something she had never done in her life; she reached up and slapped her husband.

They both stood, face-to-face, in stunned silence. Christine finally threw her hands up to her face and turned from her husband. Raoul reached out a hand for her shoulder and she shrugged him off.

"Oh God," Christine breathed through her hands. "Don't touch me."

Raoul ignored his wife, taking her by the shoulders, turning her to face him and pulling her hands away from her face. "Christine, look at me." He touched her face. "Open your eyes and look at me!" Raoul watched as Christine opened her eyes; they were full of shock and tears. "I deserved that." Now it was his turn to look away. "Even now, after all this time, Erik still has the ability to manipulate us. I have been fighting him in one form or another for all of our lives together." Raoul shook his head sadly. "I would rather give you up, give up the children and grandchildren I love, than to see all of you in this much pain. I cannot bear watching all of you die a little each day." He raised his eyes to look at her. "You are not the only one who would give everything to save the ones you love."

Christine studied her husband closely. She had never known he felt the need to fight Erik after the night he had set them free. Why had she not known? Had the two of them been living such separate lives for all these years? Christine was not sure she was ready for the answer. There was one thing of which she was sure and it was that she loved the man standing in front of her. He had been willing to give up his life for her once and was ready to do it again. She was not sure she would be able to find the words to convey what was in her heart.

"Raoul," she said as she reached a hand to his cheek. She smiled when he did not flinch. "Please do not go. I need you with me for I cannot do this alone." She put out her arms and drew him close, whispering into his ear. "You are my strength. You are my steady rock. You are my refuge and you were and will always be my salvation. Oh God, I love you! Please ..." her voice broke, "please do not go."

Christine felt her husband's arms go around her and the intense need of his embrace took her breath away. She was not sure how long they stood there, locked in each other's arms, before Raoul finally drew back.

"We have to give our children back their lives," Raoul began and was stopped with a gentle finger on his lips.

"I know," Christine told him, the fear still in the back of her eyes. "I know. Would it be so horrible, though, for Jean-Paul and Richard to remain here? I enjoy the company of Therese and Leonie and I do not think I want to let my grandchildren go just yet."

"I think I can manage that one." Raoul did not look forward to the next subject. "You know that the party for the American ambassador is tomorrow night?"

"I know," Christine replied in a small voice.

"We have to let them go, Christine. We cannot keep them locked away forever. Gustave is turning into a sullen stranger." Raoul shook his head. "And Annalise - I cannot bear to see her this way. My beautiful, vibrant daughter is gone and I do not know the person who took her place. They are young and our fears are turning them old before their time. We need to let them go."

"But what if I cannot?" There was a note of panic in Christine's voice. "What if he is out there in the shadows? What if he takes her?"

"Christine," Raoul started and stopped. How could he could he convince his wife to let their children leave the safety of their home when he shared her fears and apprehensions? Yet it was far worse to watch as the very same children were destroyed by those fears. "Christine," he began again, "in spite of everything, you and I have trusted each other with our lives for all these years. Now we need to find it in ourselves to take that trust and give it to our children. I am as frightened for them as you but it frightens me more to see how our lack of trust is destroying them."

"It is not our children I do not trust, Raoul; it is what is out there waiting that I do not trust. It terrifies me to think what could ... what might ..." Christine looked at her husband in panic. "I can't do this."

"You must," Raoul told her. "You have got to trust that Gustave will keep Annalise from harm. You have got to trust that our people will keep both of them safe from any shadows that may be lurking. And you have got to trust your children." He reached out to touch her cheek. "Christine, we cannot protect them forever."

"Yes, we can. We have to do so!"

"Christine," Raoul tried again.

"Raoul," she pleaded.

"We need to let them have their lives back."

Christine closed her eyes and wrestled with the tears that were threatening to start again. How could she let her only daughter leave the safety of home when Christine knew what might be waiting for Annalise? How could she take such a great risk? Then Christine opened her eyes and looked at her husband and thought of what he had said. She had not been so wrapped up in her own fearful memories that she had not noticed the change in her children; the change in her daughter.

"I know that I need to do this," Christine acknowledged as she gripped her husband's lapels. "But Gustave is going to need to promise me that he will not let his sister out of his sight for the entire evening. He is going to have to swear to me that he will do that! Raoul, you will have to make him swear!"

Raoul placed his hands over the ones that gripped his jacket so tightly. "I will make him swear." His look grew gentle. "You know our children would do anything for you." He removed the hands that held him, raising one of them to his lips. "I will go and find Annalise and Gustave. I think you will make them both very happy." He turned to walk out the door.

"But at what price?" Christine whispered to herself as she turned to look out the windows, wrapping her arms about her waist, fighting the urge to begin humming again.

"You wanted to see us, Mother?" a female voice asked.

Christine turned to see her youngest son and daughter entering the room followed by their father and something in her heart sank. Raoul had been right. The change in her children was even more drastic than Christine had been able to notice through her fear. She almost did not recognize the two young people who stood in front of her with such somber expressions.

_"Oh my God, have I done that?"_ she wondered.

"Your mother and I have something to tell you," Raoul said as he motioned for his children to have seats.

"I think I'll stand," Gustave said.

"You will be pleased to have a seat," his father told him.

It was a fight in which Gustave did not wish to engage, so he sat down next to his sister and watched as their father crossed the room to stand next to their mother.

"We know that there is a party tomorrow evening that both of you had made plans to attend," Raoul began. He watched as his son sighed and his daughter did nothing but look at the floor. "We want you to know that you are both free to attend." A slight smile crossed his face as the light returned to Gustave's eyes and Annalise actually raised her head.

"But you must promise me," Christine continued, "you must swear to me that you will stay close to each other." She looked at her son. "You cannot let your sister out of your sight the entire night. I need to know ... I need ..." her voice broke and Christine looked to her husband.

"We need to know that we can trust you each of you to have a care for the other. We need to know that you understand what could be at stake if," Raoul drew a deep breath, "if our suspicions are correct. We need to know that we can trust you."

Gustave reached out for his sister's hand and found it strangely cold. He squeezed it gently and was surprised when he felt Annalise return the gesture. "I promise," he said.

"You must swear to me," his mother told him.

"You have my word as a gentleman, Maman," Gustave told her as he stood.

"That is all we can ask," Raoul told him with a nod of approval. He was surprised when Annalise walked over, reached up and kissed his cheek. He was even more surprised to see a bit of a sparkle return to her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered before turning to her mother.

Christine looked at her daughter and saw something in her eyes that she could not define and there was something in the way that Annalise hugged her that gave Christine pause. "You will stay safe?" she asked as Annalise broke the embrace.

"I will be safe and I will be home after the party," Annalise told her mother. "I promise." She turned to her brother who held out his hand. 

"Let's go and share the joy with everyone else," Gustave said with a wink.

"And when you are done sharing your joy, tell your brothers and their wives that we wish to speak with them," Raoul said and watched as his youngest children walked out the door, a bit lighter, perhaps, in their steps. He felt his wife grip his arm.

"What have I agreed to?" Christine asked him.

"Their futures," Raoul told her.

_"I hope,"_ he thought to himself.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Summary: Christine gifts her daughter with special jewels for a night out. Annalise and Gustave enjoy an evening with Andrew and Katherine. And Andrew has a question for Annalise.

_Author's Note: For Mom & Dad & the sapphire necklace. You are loved and missed._

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Oh, mademoiselle," Rachel exclaimed as she stepped back to admire her handiwork, "you look so lovely."

Annalise turned to look at herself in the mirror behind her. She smiled at her reflection for it was a different person who stared back at her than had been there just the day before; the naive girl was gone, replaced by a wiser, wistful young woman. Her dark hair was pulled up to the top of her head with a few curls coaxed to frame her face and trail down her neck. The dark blue silk of her gown matched her eyes and made a gentle swooshing sound when she walked.

"So this is what I would have looked like as an adult," Annalise whispered. She mentally shook herself, trying to chase away the thought.

There was a knock at the door and Rachel went to open it. Christine stood in the doorway, a large blue velvet box in her hands.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"Maman," Annalise smiled as she walked over to Christine, "you do not even need to ask!"

Christine stared at her daughter, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek. "You look beautiful," she sighed as she took Annalise's hand, leading them to the bed where they sat. "I have a gift for you," Christine said as she opened the box she held.

"Oh!" Annalise exclaimed. "They are exquisite." She looked at her mother. "I do not think I have ever seen them before."

"Turn around, child," Christine said as she lifted a small necklace of sapphires in the shape of teardrops from their velvet bed to place around her daughter's throat. "I do not think I have worn these since just after Jean-Paul was born. They were your father's gift to me on the day we married." Christine handed the drop earrings and bracelet to her daughter as she tucked two matching flower-shaped clips in Annalise's hair. "He said he was taking the tears from my eyes and giving them back as precious jewels so that I could wear them in happiness."

Annalise turned back to her mother. "Maman ..."

"No tears," Christine told her. "No more tears. Enough tears have been shed over the last few days and I would have no more. Tonight, I want you to go and be young and happy." A cloud passed over Christine's expressive eyes. "And safe. Promise me you shall be safe."

Annalise touched the jewels around her throat, their color and sparkle matched by her eyes. "If I go guarded by the love you and Father share, how could I not be?"

Mother and daughter embraced. Christine finally drew back, stood and took her daughter's hand raising Annalise to her feet. "Come, I want to see the expression on your father's face when he sees you." She managed a smile. "And no skipping down the stairs. Slowly, please."

"Slowly," Annalise agreed.

Christine led her daughter out of the bedroom and to the top of the stairs. She motioned for Annalise to stay just out of sight and walked down the stairs to where her husband and family waited.

Gustave was looking at his watch. "Please tell me she is ready?" he pleaded.

Christine turned and looked back up the stairs. "Annalise," she called lightly.

Annalise turned the corner and stood for a moment at the top of the stairs, a vision in midnight blue from her slippers to the sapphires winking in her dark curls. Her dress was cut very low across her chest allowing the sapphires at her throat to gleam brightly against her fine skin but not as brightly as her blue eyes.

"Fairy!" Bertrand called out as he bounced in Therese's arms. His mother shushed him with a smile.

Raoul stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hand extended and drew Annalise into his arms when she reached the last stair. "This is the daughter I know," he whispered to her as he drew back to smile at her. "You are lovely." He reached out to touch the jewels about her neck, sighing. "I had not thought to see these again. Your mother said she did not need them after your brother was born because there would be no more tears." Raoul looked deeply into his daughter's eyes. "But tonight they look more like the stars than tears." He kissed her lightly. "Go and be happy, my dear," he said.

Christine watched them, smiling inwardly, knowing she had made the right choice in removing the boxed jewels from where they had rested, nearly forgotten, in the back of a wardrobe.

"Can she say her good-byes so we can go?" Gustave could not wait to escape the confines of the family home.

"You were ever an impatient, child," his mother told him.

"I do want to go," Annalise said in a small voice, a half-smile on her face.

So good-byes were said, promises were extracted to be vigilant and safe and Raoul saw his son and daughter safely into the coach. He nodded slightly at the groom sitting next to the driver and watched as the man drew his coat back to reveal the gun at his hip. Raoul lightly tapped on the side of the coach and watched as it drove down the long drive and out towards Paris.

"Oh God," he heard his wife say - a cross between a cry and a prayer.

Raoul walked back to the front door and guided Christine back inside, latching the door shut behind them. "Shall I sit up with you till they get home?"

"You know they are going to sit up till we get home," Gustave said as the carriage stopped at the end of their drive before turning onto the broad avenue that led to Paris.

"This I know," Annalise replied and turned to look out the open window, inhaling deeply. "But right now all I want is to forget the last few days and just pretend that everything was like it used to be." She turned to look at her brother. "Can we do that just for tonight? Please?"

Gustave settled back against the seat cushions. "I would like nothing better," he said as he found a comfortable position and turned to look out the other window, watching as Paris drew ever nearer.

It took the best part of an hour to reach the American embassy in the northwest corner of the city. The white brick building was brightly lit and carriages passed through the gates, dropping people off. Annalise looked out her window and sighed wistfully at the sight of the Place de la Concorde with its statues and fountain. She caught a glimpse of the Seine glittering under the full moon just before the carriage passed through the gate. Their driver stopped in front of the embassy and the coach door was opened by a footman in black livery. Gustave stepped out and extended a hand to his sister. He took her arm and guided her through the front door as their coach moved away to make room for the next arrival.

"Oh, you did come!" Abigail Norris, the ambassador's wife exclaimed as Annalise and Gustave passed through the reception line. "Andrew and Kitt will be so pleased."

"Thank you," Annalise smiled at her.

"Happy birthday, sir," Gustave said as he shook William's hand.

"Thank you," the ambassador replied and leaned forward in a slightly conspiratorial manner. "I think if you go down the hallway to the right and take the first door to your left, you will find my young cousins waiting for you and your sister." He smiled as Annalise extended her own greetings and watched, as she was lead down the hallway he had mentioned. "She is quite lovely, isn't she?" he remarked to his wife.

"What door was it?" Annalise asked as she followed her brother.

"The first one on the left," he told her as he stopped, reaching in to turn an elaborately carved doorknob. Gustave led Annalise into what appeared to be a reception room of some type. Two blonde heads looked up as the door was opened.

"Annalise!" Katherine squealed as she rose to her feet, crossing the small room and meeting Annalise halfway across.

"Katherine! How I have missed you!" Annalise exclaimed as the two young women embraced.

Their brothers were a bit more dignified.

"How have you been?" Andrew said as he shook Gustave's hand.

"It is a long story," Gustave told him. "How was your trip?"

"I accomplished everything I set out to do," Andrew replied.

"Where have you been these last days?" Katherine wondered as she and Annalise sat on an overly cushioned love seat.

Gustave and Andrew sat opposite them. Annalise looked to her brother. "Quietly," he told her, "and in English."

Andrew and Katherine sat in amazed silence as their friends related the events of the last several days from the arrival of the sheet music through the true story of what had occured at the opera house. Katherine, knowing the truth of the strange man Annalise had met in the country, reached out for her friend's hand and held it lightly. She felt Annalise move her fingers and knew that no one besides herself was fully aware of what had happened during that visit to the country.

"I am so glad they let you come tonight!" Katherine said as the story was finished.

"So are we," Gustave assured her. "Our home was turning into a veritable grave."

"Don't say that!" Annalise told him. "Please, don't say that."

"I am sorry," her brother apologized. He turned to look at Andrew. "See what happens when you are confined to a single place? You turn into a blathering idiot."

"I have seen you when you were a blathering idiot. This is not one of those times," Andrew assured him. He turned to smile at the two girls. "I think, though, that it is time for pleasurable things. Food and drink and music await us." He walked to the door, opening it and bowing slightly. "Shall we?"

"One minute?" Katherine asked.

"They are going to whisper," Andrew stated.

"They can whisper all they want but we must stand by the door," Gustave told him and looked at his sister. "We will not listen," he assured her.

"You do not think ..." Katherine whispered to Annalise.

"It has to be," Annalise whispered back, closing her eyes. "Who else could it be? It would explain so very much! I wrote to him, just before the rose came, telling him of what had been happening." She opened her eyes. "I even sent him my locket. Oh God; what have I done, Katherine?"

"But the man you told me about does not sound like the type of person who would do such horrible things!"

"That is what I thought, at first, but now I do not know." Annalise felt the tears threatening to start again. "He tried to kill my father! He has my mother so terrified that she wants to keep me a prisoner in my own home." Annalise gripped her friend's hands. "All of this is my fault! If I had not met him in the woods that day ..."

"Don't," Katherine told her. "You cannot know for certain that it is him."

"Are the two of you going to talk the evening away or would you rather enjoy the party?" Gustave wanted to know.

Annalise reached up to wipe away the tears at the corners of her eyes. She managed a weak smile at Katherine.

"We would like to enjoy ourselves, please," Katherine said.

Andrew extended a hand towards the two girls. "Then let us waste no more time."

The food, the music, the crowd all helped to chase away - for however brief a time - the shadows that hung over Gustave and Annalise. There were friends to greet, gossip to be told, laughter to be shared. There was wine to chase away internal shadows and music to lift up the spirits. The hours passed by in a heady, joyful whirl of glittering crystal, bright, smiling faces and the romantic notes of the music that carried all along on its undulating, magical waves.

"I am absolutely breathless," Katherine said as she laid a hand over her heart, smiling as the young man who had just spun her around the large reception area walked away.

"I do not think I am much better," Annalise told her. She turned to look at her brother. "I cannot believe how many times I have danced tonight! I have barely had time to sit!"

Gustave smiled. "I do not think any of us have had time to sit tonight! It has been quite wonderful!"

Andrew approached where they stood. "What is so wonderful?" he wanted to know.

"Feeling alive again," Gustave replied.

"And the music," Katherine sighed.

"And dancing until you feel as if you are flying!" Annalise finished.

Andrew looked at them in amazement. "Are we all at the same party?" He winked at his sister and smiled as she blushed.

The band began to play again, the slow start of a Viennese waltz. Gustave extended his hand to Katherine. "May I have this dance?" Katherine took his hand, smiling softly.

"Shall we?" Andrew asked Annalise.

"I would like that," she replied with a happy little sigh.

Gustave touched his sister's arm as he led Katherine into the crowd that was beginning to move in time to the music. "I leave you in trusted hands," he said softly.

Annalise smiled her thanks to her brother and turned to Andrew. She felt him draw her into his arms and let him lead her into the swirling couples. She watched his eyes as they began to dance, moving with the music, the sound of rustling silk and satin the grace notes surrounding them. There was such strength of emotion in Andrew's eyes that Annalise found she could not hold his gaze. She closed her eyes, lowering her head to rest against his shoulder, losing herself in the moment. She could smell his cologne, spicy and warm, as it filled the air around her. There was the constant throb of his heartbeat pulsing just below her ear and the strong comfort of his arm as it encircled her waist. Annalise sighed and was content to let Andrew lead her where he would. As the music grew distant, Annalise finally opened her eyes, noticing that she had been guided out of the reception room and into the hallway. She looked at Andrew, a question in her eyes.

"I will not let anything happen," he said, "but there is something I need to say to you." Andrew took her by the hand and opened a closed door, leading her into a deserted office. There were two chairs in front an ornate desk and Andrew guided Annalise to them. He kept hold of her hands as they sat.

"What ..." Annalise began.

"Let me say this before I lose my nerve," Andrew told her. He swallowed and shook his head before looking at Annalise and capturing her eyes. "Before I even knew you, I had been listening to your brother tell stories about his wonderful sister. Then I had the opportunity to come to Paris and get to meet you and I discovered that the stories could not even begin to do you justice."

Annalise felt herself blushing and lowered her head. There was the gentle touch of a hand under her chin, lifting her head back up.

"Please, look at me," Andrew asked.

Annalise could not feel her head but somehow found it within herself to nod.

"I love you," Andrew said simply. "I think I have loved you from that very first day when you chattered all the way through luncheon, not caring what your parents thought. You are my first thought in the morning, my last thought at night and my every thought during the day. I find the thought of returning to America and leaving you here unbearable. I do not want to be without you."

Annalise could not remember if she was breathing as Andrew leaned towards her, his hand moving to rest lightly on her cheek.

"I love you," he whispered.

Annalise knew she was not breathing as she closed her eyes, the touch of Andrew's hand on her cheek liquid fire against her skin. Yet that touch was nothing when compared to the touch of his lips against hers. His lips were soft and gentle and their touch stopped her heart and set her soul flying. "Andrew," she breathed as he broke the kiss. "I ... I ..."

Andrew reached in and kissed her again. "I love you," he repeated. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to make you smile. I want to be the one you can trust with your life. I want to marry you."

"Oh God," Annalise said, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them to look at the man seated across from her. "I can't breathe. I cannot even think."

"I should not have hoped," Andrew told her with a sad smile. He began to stand. "I'll take you back to Gustave."

"No," Annalise said, holding on to the hand still in her own, pulling him back to the seat. "That is not it." She gave Andrew a little smile. "Please do not laugh but I have never been kissed before and my head is swimming and my heart is pounding and I do not know what to feel or to think. I need some time." Annalise remembered her mother's words. "I need some time to listen to my head and follow my heart." She looked deeply into Andrew's eyes and placed her other hand on his cheek. "Please, give me that time."

"I am not a patient man but I would willingly wait until the end of time for your answer." Andrew returned her small smile. "No matter what the answer may be. You have given me hope and that is something I can hold onto."

"Oh, Andrew," Annalise sighed, her eyes closing, her dreams of the moon fulfilled as their lips met again.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Summary: A letter. A decision. A discovery. A gunshot and an abduction. And so it begins again ...

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It had been almost two weeks since Erik had received Annalise's letter and sent her his reply. The letter had managed to lift him from the dark depths into which he had sunk when, once again, left to his own devices. He had not thought to hear from her once she had returned to Paris and, now that he had, Erik found himself waiting for another letter each time Tomas would return from the village. His heart would sink when Tomas came back with empty hands and Erik hated himself for it. He hated the weakness that this girl brought forth in him. He hated it as much as he longed for it, knowing that the weakness was a sign of the heart that her mother had returned to him.

Erik was running loving fingers over some of the many red roses he kept in vases throughout his home. He had found the rose bushes overgrown and long neglected in the courtyard of the monastery and spent long years cultivating them and nursing them back to health. Their delicate nature and gentle scent reminded him of Christine. The roses were his way of holding on to what could never have been. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, mentally chastising himself for the anticipation in his heart.

He was not to be disappointed.

Tomas stood in the door, a familiar envelope in his hand. "M'sieur Pfieffer sends his apologies. He has been out of town and did not get back till this day. He wanted me to give this to you," he said as he held out the envelope.

Erik was across the room and taking the letter before Tomas could finish his words. He wanted to rip the envelope open but calmed his racing heart and slowly slipped a finger beneath the wax seal. He reached in for the letter and withdrew a small parcel, a question crossing his face. Erik gently unfolded the tissue paper to reveal a small gold locket on a very delicate chain. Carefully opening it, a small gasp escaped his lips as he saw the miniatures of Annalise and Christine. His Christine. His beloved Angel.

"Oh, Christine," he said softly, a sob in his voice. Erik carefully undid the chain's clasp and placed the locket around his neck, hiding it beneath his shirt and turning his attention to the letter he held.

_"Dearest Erik, I fear this letter must be brief, as I need to get it to my maid so that she can deliver it to the post. I would post it myself but have been forbidden from leaving the house. My parents insist it is for my safety and I shall honor their wishes as they are my parents, yet, I find I do not understand what is happening. I do not understand why a simple sheet of music from an opera called "Hannibal" and a gold party mask with pink roses should cause such an unGodly commotion! These things have come to me but I do not know who sent them. All I know is they have terrified my mother. My father has not fared any better - I have discovered that he has a temper I had not seen till this time - and says that it is because these things remind him and Maman of the fire that destroyed the opera house. I wish I could talk to them but I am afraid to do so for fear of what new reaction I might provoke. I find my comfortable prison to be very lonely. I am glad I could write out my thoughts and send them to you. I hope that you will send happy thoughts and honest prayers my way. I know that such things, coming from someone who has such deep love in his heart, will cheer my sad days. Your loving friend, Annalise. PS - I thought you would like this locket as you said I have a great look of my mother about me. Wear it well and know that I think of you often."_

The joyful look that had begun on Erik's face the moment that Tomas had walked into the room with letter in hand had darkened and grown deathly grim as he read the words Annalise had written on the paper. "No one takes my place," he muttered darkly, lifting his eyes to look at Tomas. "Ready the carriage and horses."

"But it is nearing night!" Tomas said. "Surely it can wait till the morning."

"Do not question me on this, Tomas," Erik told him in a strange tone of voice. "You have been a good and loyal friend but there is something I must do."

"But you do not sleep well. You must get some sleep!"

"I must save a young girl from a nightmare you cannot even begin to imagine." Erik shook his head. "I will do whatever it takes to save her and sleep be damned!"

And in another carriage, another man found he could not sleep, either, and for the nearly the same reasons. His thoughts, too, were wrapped up in the same young girl; but whereas Erik wanted to save her from her nightmares, he wanted to wrap her up in them, punish her for her sins. He balled his hands into fists as his anger at her grew.

It had not worked.

All his plans, all the preparations, all the dominoes he worked so carefully to align had fallen but they had not fallen according to his desires.

How could one infuriating slip of girl be so indecisive? Why would she not just say what he wanted to hear? Why could she not just do as he wanted? He did not have the answers to why and was sure that he no longer cared. He did not need them. He fingered the bottle in his jacket pocket and glanced at the wooden box on the seat next to him, smiling, knowing that he had the means to his ends.

She would belong to him or she would not belong to anyone.

He leaned back against the carriage seat, closing his eyes, willing sleep to come for sleep would bring with it an all too short oblivion from the emotional maelstrom in which he found himself lost.

The girl he hated and loved with every single breath was also finding sleep elusive. The images and emotions of the last several days kept playing themselves in Annalise's mind every time she laid her head upon her pillow, closing her eyes, seeking a few moments of respite. She would hear her parents' story over and over again, hearing her father struggle for breath, seeing her mother in the arms of another man. She would see her older brothers draw their wives and children behind closed doors as she approached, their fear of her and what she would bring evident upon their faces. She would hear the bitter laughter of her youngest brother, his words of condemnation ringing in her ears. She would turn from all of them to find two men waiting for her; one respectful yet passionate, willing to wait for her to come to him; the other outspoken, telling her what he wanted, strangely comforting in his honesty. As the dawn began to show pink through her window, Annalise gave up trying to sleep, getting up and going to sit at her dressing table.

She looked at herself in the mirror, sighing and running a hand through her thick curls. "They are only dreams," she said softly. "None of it is real. They are only dreams." She looked down to see her sketchbook on the floor and picked it up. She opened it to look at the picture she had sketched of Erik barely a month earlier. "Not all of them are dreams, are they?" There was a definite sob in her voice as she studied the face of the gentle man she had met in the woods. "How could you have done those things to my parents? Why would you do them to me?" Annalise closed her eyes and cried silently for a moment. "I do not want to believe it is you. I do not want ..." She opened her eyes and found her hand reaching for the charcoal pencil on the dressing table. She quickly flipped the page in the sketchbook and began drawing. She wanted to make Erik's profile a whole, perfect face. Annalise needed to see his eyes again. She needed to see Erik as he might have been, as she saw him before hearing of the things he had done to her parents. She wanted the reassurance that her judgment and faith in her fellow man were not just the longings of a child but the truths of an adult. As the pencil stopped, Annalise looked at what she had drawn and was stunned.

That was not her friend! That was not Erik! It was another man entirely and the image and knowledge that she had drawn it without even realizing what she had done confused and amazed Annalise. She studied the face beneath her hands, the tip of the charcoal lightly tracing the outline of the face, the curve of the lips, the depth of the eyes. Annalise's smile began to grow as she listened to her heartbeat in the quiet room, a feeling growing there, its warmth reaching out to fill her whole body, chasing away the dark thoughts in her mind.

"Follow your heart," she whispered as her fingertips touched the lips of the drawing beneath her hands, forgetting the first part of her mother's wisdom - listen to your head. "Why did I not see? You were right there in front of me and why did I not ..." Her voice trailed off, as she fought down the small doubts picking at the back of her mind. Annalise turned the page back to the profile she had done of Erik. "You were right," she said to the drawing, the tears threatening to come again, "you were right. He was right there in front of me and I almost missed it." She touched her fingers to her lips and placed them on the sketch. "And I am sorry. You would never hurt me. In spite of everything, I know you would never hurt me." Annalise stood and looked out the window at the new morning. "But now I have to hurt the feelings of a very lovely man. Being an adult is a difficult thing," she sighed as she went to get ready for the day ahead.

Her sorrow at having to dash the dreams of one man was quickly overshadowed by the thought that she had fallen in love with the other. It was a thought that brought the color back to her cheeks and the sparkle back to her eyes. Annalise found herself floating through her morning, the content, satisfied smile never leaving her face. She chattered nonsense about the previous evening's party all the way through breakfast much to the relief of her father who felt a great weight lift as the daughter Raoul cherished seemed to have been given back to him. Christine, a bit wiser in the ways of young girls, recognized the happy smile on her daughter's face and she made a mental note to find a moment to speak with Annalise later that day. Christine still did not trust the world around them and wanted to be sure that her daughter was not making a mistake that would only hurt her in the end.

It was nearing mid-afternoon when Annalise got up from the piano, deciding to go in search of her brother. She wanted to speak with Gustave as she felt she need of his counsel before she began talking to the two men who had both said they loved her. She walked into the hallway to find her father coming in the front door.

"My dear," Raoul said a smile as he walked to greet his daughter.

"Have you seen Gustave? I want to talk with him and I do not wish to go searching through every single room to try and find him."

"But would I not do as well?" her father asked, an amused twinkle in his eye.

Annalise giggled. "I am saving a special time for you and Maman for tonight."

"Then I am content," Raoul told her as he kissed her cheek. "Your brother went out riding earlier. You may want to check at the stables. Before you go, have you seen your mother?"

"She is upstairs resting, I think."

"Go find your brother and I shall go and check on your mother," Raoul gave his daughter a quick hug and watched as she walked out the front door. He walked up the stairs and turned down the hallway. He opened the door to the bedroom he shared with Christine and found she was not there. He closed the door, a frown on his face. "Where did she go?" he wondered out loud.

"Raoul!" he heard an urgent voice calling him.

Raoul quickly strode down the hallway and into the open door of his daughter's bedroom. He found Christine sitting on Annalise's bed, her daughter's sketchbook open on her lap, a letter and a handkerchief on the bed beside her. Christine's face was white, she was breathing rapidly and shaking her head from side to side. The sight frightened Raoul and he crossed the room to sit by her side, taking her icy hands in his own, turning her chin so that she looked at him. "What's happened?" he wanted to know. "What's wrong?"

Christine reached over and handed him the letter and the handkerchief. She watched, as his worried look grew dark and deadly. "You need to see this, as well," she said in a soft voice.

Raoul looked down at the open page of his daughter's sketchbook and uttered something that made Christine clasp her hands over her ears.

"Raoul, please," Christine tried when her husband grew quiet. "Where is Annalise? We have got to find her and talk with her. Now!"

"She went to the stables to find Gustave," Raoul said as he stood, drawing Christine up with him. He held her for a moment. "I know you still think of him," he whispered to her. "I never wanted anything like this to happen. You have to believe that."

"I do," Christine whispered back. "But I need to find my daughter, Raoul. Please!"

Their daughter had been to the stables, only to find that her brother had still not returned from his ride. Annalise had smiled prettily at the stable hand and he had told her that Gustave had gone riding in the fields that lay just behind the garden wall. Annalise thanked the young boy and walked through the gardens, towards the back wall. She stopped in front of the hidden gate, debating within herself, and decided that the world outside of the walled-in gardens represented freedom and she felt strangely invincible. Annalise pulled back the ivy and opened the gate. As she walked through and into the open fields, she thought better of things and decided to leave the gate open. She stood for a moment, scanning the open fields. She saw two figures on horseback off in the distance. Annalise concentrated and felt her heart sink as she took note of the hair color of the rider with her brother. She would have to break the news sooner to him than she had hoped. She remembered seeing daisies near to the woods by the roadside and walked towards them. Daisies were sunny and happy and Annalise hoped they would cushion the words she needed to say.

"Is that not your sister?" the man riding with Gustave said.

Gustave gently pulled on the reins, steadying the powerful horse beneath him. "It is. What is she doing out of the gardens?"

"Picking flowers," the other man said and sighed. "And who the devil is that?"

Gustave looked as a coach stopped by the side of the road and a man got out, approaching his sister. He felt his shoulders tense as he raised himself in the saddle. He could not see who the person was but it looked like his sister knew him. Gustave sat back down. "I have no idea," he said as he saw Annalise extend her hand. "Obviously she knows him."

Annalise was as surprised as her brother by the arrival of the coach. She had just stood up, a bunch of wild daisies in her hand when she noticed the coach and the opening door. She had smiled when she saw who it was that emerged from the open door. He had walked over to her, extending his hand in greeting.

"What are you doing here?" she wondered, the smile and delight growing on her face.

"I was passing by and I happened to look out my window and there you were," he told her. "I thought myself quite fortunate and ordered my driver to stop. I had wanted to talk with you and this was an opportunity I could not pass by."

"I would like to talk with you, as well" Annalise assured him, the color rising in her cheeks, "but I would like to have a bit more privacy." She leaned a little closer, dropping her voice. "There is something important I need to tell you." She was a little stunned when his hand crept from holding her hand to holding her wrist.

"I know a place where we can have all the privacy you would ever need," he whispered to her.

Annalise looked down as she felt the grip on her wrist tighten. "That hurts," she told him, wondering at his strange actions. "Please let me have my hand back." She looked up into his eyes, the eyes that had previously only looked at her with love and saw something there that caused her nerves to dance on edge. "Please, let me go!" She asked as she tried to pull her arm away from him, only to feel the grip on her wrist grow stronger. Annalise looked back over her shoulder at her brother off in the distance.

Gustave had been watching the interaction between his sister and the strange man from the coach closely. He had noticed when she began to pull her arm away from him. "Damn it!" he shouted as he dug his heels into his horse's flanks, racing across the fields, leaving his riding companion to catch up.

The man holding so tightly to Annalise's wrist had also noticed her look back over shoulder and saw a rider approaching them. He snarled as the rider drew near, taking note of who it was.

"Gustave!" Annalise shouted as the man holding on to her, yanked her arm, hard, pulling her to his side.

"Annalise!' her brother called back as the powerful stallion he rode quickly closed the distance between them, noticing who it was that held her, feeling his temper grow. "Let her go!" he shouted.

"Little chance of that," the man said softly as he reached into his cloak.

Annalise took her frightened eyes from Gustave, to see what the man was doing. "No!" she exclaimed as she saw him pull out a pistol and aimfor her brother. She knew that Gustave would not be able to stop the horse in time to avoid the bullet so Annalise did the only thing she knew how to do as that man's finger began to squeeze down on the trigger. She pulled away from him, throwing him off balance, pointing the barrel of the gun a bit lower.

"No!" Annalise screamed as the echo of the gunshot rang in her ears and her brother fell from his saddle, a pool of red beginning to spread outward from his upper chest. She saw the other rider closing the distance. "Help me!" she screamed as the man she was with gripped her tightly about the waist, dragging her into the coach which sped away down the road and towards the country.

Gustave lay on the ground, stunned and bleeding, but struggling to get up and go after his sister, her scream echoing in his head. He looked up as four legs stopped by his side and saw his riding companion through his blurred vision. "No," he breathed heavily. "Don't stop! Go after her!" Gustave raised himself to his knees. "Go!" he shouted and watched as his companion raced off down the road, chasing after the man who had taken his sister.

Gustave found that his knees began to shake and he could not find the strength to stay in a kneeling position. He collapsed to all fours and was about to sink the rest of the way back to the earth when he felt a pair of strong hands beneath his shoulders, turning him over. The movement jarred the wound in his chest and he gasped in pain.

"No, no, no," he heard a female voice crying and struggled to focus his vision. He looked up to find his father, pale and concerned, staring back at him. A voice echoed in his ears, "Christine, quickly!" and Gustave heard the sound of something tearing.

"Gustave," Raoul said as he placed something white against the bullet word to staunch the blood flow, "what happened?"

Gustave looked at the sky, trying to see past the pain. His mother's face was there, drawn and frightened.

"Oh, God!" Christine breathed, as she fell to her knees, reaching out gentle fingers to touch her son's face. Her heart leapt into her throat when his eyes began to roll back into his head. "Stay with me, please, stay with me!" She pleaded and looked to her husband. "Help, Raoul, we have to get help!" Christine turned her attention back to her son and felt her heart return when Gustave focused his eyes on her face.

"It hurts," he said like a small child, his breaths rapid and shallow.

Christine left one hand on her son's face and took one of his hands in her free one. "I know, my baby," she said, fighting to keep the tears from her voice. "Maman is right here."

"I'm sorry ..." Gustave began, inhaling sharply, gripping his mother's hand. "I tried ... Annalise ..."

"Where is your sister?" he heard his mother ask from a great distance.

"I could not ..." Gustave drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I could not stop them." He focused on his father's face, grim and drawn. A sharp pain ripped through him as Raoul pressed harder on the compress. "He has her. He took Annalise," he managed before the world grew black before his eyes.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Summary: Annalise begins to discover just how dangerous her abductor can be. As the doctors tend to Gustave, tensions continue to take their toll on Raoul and Christine's marriage. And startling news is delivered by a visitor.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Annalise felt herself jolted about by the speeding coach, unable to move, to shrink away into the corner, her wrists held tightly by the man who had abducted her. She struggled to fight back the panic, fear and confusion that threatened to overwhelm her and tried to concentrate on the anger she felt. She was angry with this man - whom she was certain she loved - for not listening to her, for shooting her brother and dragging her away. More heartbreakingly, Annalise was angry with herself for not listening to the little doubts she had felt, for not heeding her parents' wishes, for getting herself into this position. She felt angry, frightened tears begin and did not fight against them, letting them fall; they were something real she could hold onto.

_Oh, God,"_ she thought, looking down at the hands holding her wrists, unwilling to look her captor in the eyes. _"What am I going to do?"_ She heard the crack of a whip and flinched; it sounded too much like a gun shot. Annalise closed her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to block out the memory of her brother tumbling from his saddle, a bright, scarlet stain beginning to cover his white shirt. _"Please, please, please, don't let him be dead, God! Not for me! Please, not for me!"_ She bargained with a Creator she was sure had forgotten her.

"You wanted to talk, my dear?" He addressed her.

The sound of his voice grated on her ears, drawing Annalise's attention away from a memory she had never wanted to have. "I have nothing to say to you," she said between clenched teeth, her eyes still averted.

"Surely someone who chatters as much as you do can find more to say than that."

"Why? Are you going to listen to me now?" Annalise raised her eyes hoping to see some human emotion in his face. She found none and tried pulling her hands away only to find that his grip tightened, making her wince in pain. "Let me go," she said.

"Where would you go?" he asked softly and with a smile that sent shivers up Annalise's spine.

"Stop the coach and take me home. Please. I won't say anything. I'll tell Gustave not to say anything. I'll tell them that you saved me and everything will be okay and then we can talk," Annalise's words nearly collided into each other as her fear heightened. "Please!" she pleaded. "Just take me home."

"I cannot do that," he told her. "Now I am going to remove one of my hands and you will not move."

There was something in his voice that made Annalise obey his orders. She watched as he pulled a bottle from his coat pocket, holding it up in front of her face.

"I need you to drink this," he told her.

"No," Annalise replied, shaking her head.

"Drink it," he ordered.

"Or what?" She shot back. "Or you'll shoot me like you shot my brother?" The anger she felt was giving Annalise a small amount of courage.

He leaned towards her. "Or I shall force it down your pretty little throat," he hissed.

Annalise studied his face, trying to gauge his intentions. She lowered her eyes, her mind racing. "Give it to me," she said softly.

"You will not try anything foolish?"

"No," Annalise lied as she raised her eyes, holding out her free hand for the small bottle. She took it and felt him release her other hand so that she could open the bottle herself. It was what she had hoped he would do. Annalise raised the bottle to her lips and as her captor began to smile, she flung the liquid at him, the bottle following.

"You little bitch!" he screamed at her, as the bottle caught him at the side of his eye.

Annalise was reaching for the door handle, thinking she would rather die in a heap alongside the road then spend another minute with this stranger, and never saw the back of his hand that connected with the right side of her face. His blow knocked her head into the side of the coach, stunning her momentarily, small dots of light swimming in front of her eyes. Before she could recover her wits, Annalise felt him grab her about the waist, pulling her towards him, placing something over her nose and mouth. It smelled sickly sweet and Annalise tried to claw at the hand pressing against her face, her feet kicking out at anything and everything. It was to no avail as she felt her strength begin to fade along with her vision. The last thing she remembered before the darkness claimed her was his voice, frighteningly calm, in her ears.

"That's a good little girl."

As he held the unconscious object of his desire in his lap, stroking her hair, there was a loud rap on the door in the roof and it opened. He glared at the man's face that appeared there.

"A rider following," the man said before disappearing, his attention needed by the four horses racing down the road.

"We cannot have that, now, can we?" he asked Annalise as he propped her against the side of the coach. He reached into a wooden box and pulled out a pistol identical to the one he had used to shoot Gustave earlier. He stood on the seat and turned towards the back of the coach, taking note of the rider fast closing the distance between them. "I have had enough of you," he said evenly as he aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger. He smiled as he noticed the rider jerk in his saddle, pulling on the reins, the horse slowing. He slipped back into the carriage, placing the gun on the opposite seat and drawing Annalise into his arms. He ran his finger over her lips and placed her arms around his neck. "Now it truly is just the two of us."

While his dark dreams had just begun, Annalise's parents were in the midst of their own dark nightmare.

Raoul paced nervously back and forth outside his son's bedroom; he did not know what else to do. He wanted to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to knock down the door to his son's room and shake the damn surgeon. He wanted to find his daughter and keep her in his arms forever. He wanted his wife to say something, one word, anything. He wanted to kill the bastard who had done all of this. He just wanted to turn the clock back so that none of this had ever happened. He wanted to wake up from the nightmare that had become his life. Raoul stopped pacing long enough to stare at the door to Gustave's room.

"What the hell is taking so long?" He looked at the grandfather clock that ticked at the end of the hall. "They have been in there for over an hour. That should be long enough!"

"Please, don't," Christine whispered softly and her husband turned around to look at her.

Christine sat on a chair opposite the door to her son's room, her hands folded in her lap, a daughter-in-law seated on either side. She had not said a word since Raoul had carried their son back to the house, sending for their private doctor and a surgeon; they had been afraid to move Gustave too much for he had been losing blood at what seemed a frightening pace. Raoul had sat by his son's side, his fingers never leaving the compress he held over the bullet wound, sending everyone scattering for doctors and surgeons and the gendarmes. Christine had cradled Gustave's head in her lap, stroking the damp curls from his forehead, lost in the memories that only mothers hold. She had cried silent tears and Raoul had had to almost drag her from their son's side when the surgeon had arrived and during the whole time, Christine had not uttered one single word.

"Don't what?" Raoul snapped, regretting it immediately.

"If you do not stop pacing back and forth, I shall start screaming." Christine did not blink. "And if I start screaming, I do not think that I shall be able to stop."

Whatever Raoul was going to reply was cut off by the sound of the door to Gustave's room opening. Christine slowly got to her feet, shrugging off Leonie's and Therese's support. Her hand reached out for her husband, Raoul took it and found it was as ice-cold as was his own. Dominic Nessilien, their private physician, stood there, a grim smile on his face.

"He's alive," he said simply.

Raoul found his wife burying her head in his shoulder, his arm going around her back in comfort.

"He has lost a good deal of blood but the bullet is out and the damage was nothing that could not be repaired."

Raoul could see what his wife could not, the expression on the doctor's face. "But ..."

"We must worry about infection and he should be in hospital. Yet I do not think it would be wise to move Gustave in his current condition. He is just too weak at the moment for any further jostling of that wound." Dominic knew his next words would be a bitter pill for the family to swallow. "And I am afraid he will be unconscious until the morning, at the earliest."

Raoul felt the woman in his arms shudder and then Christine was turning from him to look at the doctor.

"I need to be with him," she stated.

Dominic had delivered all of Raoul and Christine's children; he knew he would not be able to dissuade her. He nodded. "One moment, let me make sure the surgeon is ready." He turned to go back into the bedroom as Christine turned to her sons' wives.

"Go and see to your children," she told them, a sad, wistful look crossing her face. She accepted their quick kisses to her cheeks and watched as the two young women headed to the nursery to hug their own small babes. Christine turned her attention to her husband. "I know the gendarmes are downstairs with Jean-Paul and Richard." She fixed Raoul with an angry, haunted gaze. "I do not care if it takes all of Europe and everything we own but you tell them to find my daughter and bring her back to me."

Dominic opened the door, the surgeon stepping out, letting Christine go into Gustave's room. Dominic laid his hand on Raoul's arm as he followed his wife. "I know I will not be able to get her to rest but one of you must." He watched as Raoul shook his head. "I thought not. I want the surgeon and the nurse to spend the night. I am not anticipating problems but I do not wish to take the chance."

"I'll see that they get whatever they need," Raoul told him.

"Good." Dominic looked at his watch. "I must go back to Paris but I shall return later this evening to check on Gustave. Know that my prayers are with him and Annalise."

Raoul nodded his thanks, unsure of his voice, and closed the door behind Dominic. Christine was already seated in a chair by her son's bed, his hand in her own. A nurse waited discreetly in a shadowed corner. Raoul walked over, placing his hands on his wife's shoulders, his heart falling.

Gustave lay flat on his back, light summer sheets drawn up to his waist. His chest was swathed in white bandages that traveled up to his right shoulder, a small bit of red seeping through from where the surgeon had removed the bullet. His face, beaded with sweat, was nearly as white as the pillowcases upon which his head rested. Raoul had to look at his son's chest to be sure it was moving; Gustave's breathing was so shallow and soft.

Christine reached up to touch her son's cheek. "He always was my brave, foolish little boy," she whispered, "always getting into fights, falling out of trees, riding horses too big for him to manage, trying to keep up with his older brothers." Her voice broke. "Protecting his little sister."

"Christine," Raoul said softly, his heart breaking for her and for his whole family.

"Why would he do this to my children?" Gustave moaned lightly and Christine made a hushing noise, stroking his cheek. "Why would he do this to me?"

"I don't think it was Erik," Raoul had to admit. It was killing him to say that because if it was not Erik who had shot Gustave and taken Annalise, the other possibilities did not bear thinking about. "In spite of everything he did, one thing I know and that is that he loved you. At the end of it all, I believe he truly loved you." Raoul shook his head. "He could never hurt you like this."

"Find my daughter, Raoul," Christine told him. "Just find my baby."

Raoul turned to leave the room, taking one last look back. He saw Christine put both of her hands on her son's unbandaged arm and bend over it. He saw her shoulders began to shake and knew she was crying. Raoul fought back his own tears and closed the door. He composed himself as he walked down the stairs and into the main reception room. Jean-Paul and Richard had jumped at the sound of the opening doors.

"Gustave?" Richard blurted out.

"The bullet is out and Monsieur Nessilien thinks he will be fine." Raoul watched as his two eldest sons embraced each other. "Your mother is with him. You may go and look on in your brother for only a moment."

Jean-Paul nodded at his brother. "You go and I'll go when you get back."

"I'll be but a minute," Richard assured him and left the room, closing the double doors behind him.

"Sir," Jean-Paul began, "this is Inspector Georges Berube."

Raoul nodded at the tall man in the gray suit and sank wearily into the nearest chair. "Inspector, I pray you will forgive my lack of manners but ..."

The inspector held up a single hand. "No need for explanations, Monsieur le Vicomte, your sons have been telling me as much as they can. I need, now, to hear it from you."

Raoul told him as much as he could, of the strange gifts that had been arriving for his daughter; of the discovery - only that morning - of the drawing in her sketchbook; of hearing the gunshot and the screams and finding his son bleeding on the ground, his daughter missing. Raoul also told him that he did not think it was the infamous Opera Ghost returned to seek his vengeance.

"How can you be so sure?" the inspector wondered. "I was there that night. Does that surprise you? I was but a young officer at the time. I know the man is capable of murder."

"I am not a fool," Raoul said softly. "I am far more aware of what he is capable of doing than you will ever know but I do not think he is capable of this. The presents, yes; but not hurting our children. He would never do anything that would be so devastating to my wife. He would know that her children are everything to her." Raoul shook his head. "It terrifies me to admit it but I do not think he is responsible for this."

Jean-Paul ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, God," he breathed softly. "Then who is?"

"Where do we begin?" Inspector Berube asked. "Do you have any idea of who would want to take your daughter?"

Somewhere in the great house a clock tolled six pm.

Before Raoul could answer the question that was chilling his soul, the doors to the reception room opened. Richard stood there, a curious look on his face, Katherine at his side, her own look mirroring Richard's.

"Sir," Richard said. "You need to hear this." He laid a hand on Katherine's arm and nodded at her. "It will be all right. No one will hurt you, I promise."

Raoul slowly rose to his feet, the knot in his stomach tightening. "Why would you feel the need to reassure her of her safety in this home?"

Katherine looked at Richard, her eyes huge and frightened.

Richard looked at his father. "Sir, please," he asked.

"What do you need to say?" Raoul asked, suddenly feeling incredibly ill.

"Andrew," Katherine started and cleared her throat before beginning again. "Andrew left early this morning. He said he was coming out here to see Annalise and he would be back by dinner." Katherine laid a shaking hand over her heart. "And ... Oh Lord ... he has not come home yet."


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Summary: There is a murder as Annalise discovers that she is truly alone with a monster. But there may still be a savior in the dark night ...

Warning: Violence and adult situation ahead

_A/N - I stuck a warning on here but I think it is not anything you would not see on a primetime drama on after10 pm_

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dark. It was dark. That must mean it was night.

Annalise felt something warm and soft on her cheek, a voice murmuring to her and she smiled. She could hear a heartbeat beneath her ear and snuggled closer to it, seeking the comfort it gave. She had been having the most horrible nightmare and her father must have come in to find out what was wrong. Annalise reached out her arms, placing them around her father's neck, sighing happily. She only had to open her eyes and everything would be right again.

"I knew it was me that you loved," a voice chuckled in her ear.

Fighting to open eyelids still heavy from the effects of the chloroform, Annalise struggled to focus her blurred vision. Slowly the face smiling at her came into view and she let out a scream, trying to take her arms back from the hands that held on so tightly.

"Surely there is no need for such behavior between lovers," he said with a not entirely pleasant smile on his face.

"Let me go," Annalise said as she put up a vain struggle, still weak and disoriented from the drug.

He reached out to grab her chin, holding on tightly as she tried to wriggle away from his touch. "Look around, my dear, where would you go?" He turned Annalise around to look into the darkness that enveloped them. "Where would you go?" he asked again.

Annalise tried to see what was in front of her face. She found if she concentrated she could see the outlines of what appeared to be trees in every direction she looked, save one; she thought she saw the outline of a house behind them.

"The woods are full of dangerous animals," he told her. "You would not get very far before they would tear you to pieces."

"Better those animals ..." Annalise began as she continued to squirm in his grasp, the fog in her mind beginning to lift. She felt herself being turned around.

"Do not make the mistake of speaking in such a manner to me!" he growled.

"You need to ..." Annalise turned her head as his hand raised. "No!" she screamed.

What he may or may not have done was interrupted by the sound of boots crunching on the ground. A man came into sight from behind the house. Annalise looked to him and saw the coach driver.

"Please," she begged, a sob in her voice, "help me."

The coach driver touched his hat in her direction. "Sorry, mam'selle."

"Please ..." Annalise tried again, her mind knowing it was to no avail but her heart refusing to give up the hope this man represented. "Oh, God ... please!" She whispered her voice barely audible, hope beginning to die, as the driver ignored her pleas.

The driver turned to the man holding onto the sobbing Annalise. "The coach is hidden away and the horses are free, save the one I am taking." The driver did not approve of what was happening but the money he had been promised was good. He held out his hand. "I'll take my payment now."

"You have done well," he told the driver, "and have earned your payment." He reached into his jacket pocket for the payment. Before either the driver or Annalise could react, he pulled out a small pistol and shot the driver in the middle of his head, the man falling at Annalise's feet. She let out an ear-piercing scream. "Do not waste your breath on such as that. He is not worth the effort." He kicked the body out of the way. "What is one more body to me?" He looked at the terrified girl he gripped so tightly about her waist, his lips curling. "I have already killed your brother."

"That's a lie!" Annalise said as she tried to breathe through her sobs.

"Perhaps," he acknowledged. "Perhaps not. It really does not matter." He shrugged. "Three or four bodies, they are all still dead."

"How could you do that to him? To me?"

The man in front of her deemed the questions unworthy of answer.

Annalise closed her eyes, drawing a breath, trying to still her sobs. She had to make him listen to her! She opened her eyes again. "I ... I ..." she drew another breath, trying to steady her nerves. "You ... I need ..."

He pulled her closer so that their faces were only a breath apart, rubbing his cheek against hers. "What about what I need?" he asked, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest.

"I hate you," Annalise told him as her frustration at his refusal to hear her grew.

"That shall change," he told her. He wrapped his other arm about her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, lifting her up, her back to him so that she could not fight back or attempt escape. "Allow me to show you your new home," he said as he leaned into her neck.

Annalise found she could do nothing but sob as he carried her into the darkened house. The thought that one man was already dead because of her and that her brother might be the first was almost more than she could bear. She found she could think of nothing else as he carried her through the open front door, kicking it closed behind him. She could not even feel anything other than the all-encompassing fear as he carried her up the stairs, through a doorway and into a bedroom lit by softly glowing candles. Annalise felt her feet touch the floor, his arms coming away from her waist. She quickly stumbled to the four-poster bed in the middle of the room, clinging to one of the posts for support.

"One would think you loved that piece of wood more than you do me," he said.

"I think I do," Annalise shot back, choking down new sobs as she began to realize he was not hearing anything she said.

He picked something white up off a dresser, flinging it at Annalise. It fell at her feet as she stared at him. "You will take your clothes off and put that on."

"No." Annalise felt a shiver run up her spine.

"I am giving you ten minutes to do as I ask."

Annalise shook her head, her stomach knotting in confusion and terror.

He had crossed the remaining space between them, before Annalise could move, grabbing the silk of her bodice in one hand, pulling her towards him. "You will do as I tell you or I shall strip you myself." His eyes glowed dangerously. "And I do not think you want the consequences of that action." He let her go and Annalise stumbled backwards, banging against the side of the bed, falling to the floor. He ignored her and looked at his watch. "You now have nine minutes," he said as he turned on his heel, leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Annalise looked after him, watching as the door closed, hearing the click of a lock. She stared at the door for a moment before placing shaking hands over her face, sobbing into them. Her whole body shook from the sobs, from the fear, from the knowledge that she was alone and no one knew where she was.

"Eight minutes," a voice called to her.

Her stomach churned as Annalise raised her head, waves of nausea washing over her. She looked at the pile of white on the floor next to her, lifting it up, discovering it was simple cotton nightdress. Annalise began to undress, shaking fingers finding the simple task of undoing buttons a monumental undertaking. She managed to undo the last button of her blouse, opening it, when a summer breeze blew through the room, chilling her to the bone.

"Seven minutes."

Annalise drew her blouse closed, hugging her arms tightly around herself, rocking back and forth, the tears streaming down her face. "I can't do this," she kept repeating, "I can't do this." The lock clicked and the door opened. Annalise scooted backwards until she found herself backed against an unmovable object. "Stay away from me!" she managed to choke out, her breath rapid and shallow around her tears.

"I just wanted to let you know that you only have six minutes." He smiled at her. "I do not see a good deal of progress and you know what that means." He closed the door, clicking the lock.

"Oh, God," Annalise said softly as she struggled with her tears. "What am I going to do?"

"Five minutes, _cherie_," his voice called.

At the sound of that voice, a strange, calm numbness began to creep over Annalise. She sniffled once as her tears slowed to a stop. She could no longer feel her legs shaking, the nausea, her cold, trembling fingers. She could no longer even feel the head attached to her neck. She slipped out of her blouse, reaching around to untie the ribbons of her corset, slipping it over her head easily. Annalise reached down to the puddle of white cotton at her feet, slipping the nightdress over her head. She held it at her waist as she undid the belt to her skirt and slid it down to the floor, her slip, stockings and shoes following. At the sound of the lock clicking again, Annalise jumped, feeling beginning to return, and fled to the other side of the bed, placing it between her and the door.

"I know you still have two minutes, my dear, but I just cannot wait that long," he said as he entered the room, a wine glass in his hand. He smiled in Annalise's direction, taking note of the pile of clothes on the floor. "Now that was not so hard, was it?"

"Why?" Annalise whispered in a small voice.

"Because I will not have you trying to leave here," he said, the smile disappearing from his face. "It would not do for the daughter of a Vicomte to be found wandering the roads dressed only a night shift."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Annalise tried again.

He advanced towards the bed causing Annalise to retreat further towards the wall behind her. "Think of the scandal it would bring. So, you see, you have no where to go."

"But I do not want to go anywhere!" Annalise exclaimed, seeing the distant look in his eyes, knowing he was not hearing anything she said. Yet Annalise knew she had to try. "You need to listen to me!", she pleaded.

"I have heard enough sobbing from you and it gives me a headache." He extended the wine glass. "I would like you to drink this." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "And do not think to try anything like you did before. I should hate to have to hurt you further."

Annalise finally noticed the throbbing in her face, her hand going to her cheek, remembering the force of his blow and knowing that she would bear the mark of his anger. "I hate you," she whispered in a hurt voice, as the tears threatened to begin again.

"So you have said but it matters little to me what you think," he said. "Now, be a good girl and drink the wine for me."

"No," Annalise told him. "Not until you listen to me!"

He took two steps forward and Annalise backed further away. "Have we not played this game before?" he sighed. "Drink the wine. It will help to calm your nerves."

Her frayed, on-edge nerves were the only things keeping Annalise from complete collapse. "No," she told him again, backing further away as he continued to approach, her anger getting the better of her. "I am not going to listen to a word you have to say until you listen to me. Please! You have to hear me!"

He sighed again, placing the wine glass on top of a small side table. "My dear, you really do not understand, do you?" he asked quietly.

It was there, a brief flash of something, a split second of darkness revealed, an instant captured and released in the space of a heartbeat. Annalise's mind - senses heightened, watching for danger - saw it and recognized it for what it was. She reacted on pure instinct. As his lips curled into a snarl and he leaped across the bed towards her, Annalise tried to run around the end of the bed and towards the door. A primal urge she could not have named compelled her instinct for self-preservation to send her towards the one point beyond which lay a chance at freedom.

She would never make it.

Something grabbed her long, dark hair, pulling her backwards, twisting her and throwing her onto the floor. Annalise's wrists and knees absorbed the impact of the fall, their bones and muscles telegraphing their pain to her already overloaded mind. She let out a scream, reaching behind herself, as her hair was pulled again, lifting her off the floor, sending fingers of fire racing through her scalp. Something pushed her hard and Annalise connected with the wall in front of her, sending new pain through her face and down through her shoulders. She began to slide towards the floor when hands grabbed her roughly, turning her around and pinning her wrists above her head. She screamed again.

"Go ahead and scream!" a voice hissed at her, full of contempt. "Who is going to hear you?"

"Listen to me!" Annalise shouted as the room spun before her.

"I am the only who is," he whispered as he leaned in to kiss her with such force that Annalise felt her teeth scrape against the inside of her lips.

The love that she felt for this man began to be jumbled up with the aggravation that he would not listen to what she had to say. It was making her angry and Annalise tried to focus her growing hatred on this person who was keeping her against her will. "Let me go!" she screamed as she wiggled and squirmed trying to break free of his grasp.

"You just do not understand!" the voice hissed at her again. He transferred both of her tiny wrists to one of his hands, squeezing tightly, eliciting a cry of pain. The other hand he moved down to hold her chin as he leaned in to breathe in her ear. "There is no one but me to hear your screams. I can do things to make you scream that you cannot even begin to imagine!" He lifted a knee and ran it into her pelvic bone, pinning her to the wall, preventing her from moving, eliciting another cry of pain. "You are mine to do with as I please," he snarled at her as he took the hand that held her chin and moved it down to cup her breast.

"Don't touch me!" Annalise screamed her voice beginning to grow hoarse. "Get off of me!"

His hand crept back up to her face, turning her so that she was forced to look at him. "When the time comes you will crawl to me and beg me for my love. I will be your only salvation from the pain and torment that awaits."

"I would rather die than do anything for you!" Annalise whispered through her tears, her anger and fear overwhelming and swallowing any tender emotion she had felt for this man.

"We shall see," he stated simply. "We shall see." Without warning, he slammed Annalise's head into the wall, stunning her. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small length of rope with which he used to bind her wrists together. "You really must make me stop being so mean to you," he told her. "It does neither of us any good." He dragged Annalise over to the table where he had left the wine glass, holding it to her lips, forcing the drug-laced liquid down her throat, not caring that she choked and sputtered as some of the wine flowed down her airway. Once the wine was gone, he returned the glass to the small table and dragged Annalise towards a closet. He opened the door and pushed her inside. "I have matters to which I must attend and I really cannot have you wandering about."

As her vision stopped spinning, Annalise saw him smile at her, the closet door closing. "No!" she screamed and lunged for the door, only to slam an already sore shoulder into the now closed door. The utter darkness enveloped her as she pounded her fists on the thick wood. "Listen to me!" she screamed. When there was no response, Annalise grew frantic. "Let me out!" she yelled over and over again. Her screams grew less as her throat grew sore, the drug in the wine began to take effect.

Annalise slumped against the smooth wooden door. "Listen to me," she cried, her voice trailing off as her body surrendered to the laudanum. "Oh God, please just listen."

And out in the dark of the night there was a young man who longed to be the one to bring her home. He had been riding hard on the heels of the coach carrying the woman he loved, urging his horse onwards, ever faster as he tried to gain ground. He had not had a plan, his mind too terrified for her to think beyond keeping her in his sight, but it had all come to naught when a bullet went flying past his head. He had seen the gun pointed at him and twisted at the last moment, the bullet only grazing the side of his scalp instead of burying itself there. He had been forced to pull up as the world momentarily blacked out before him. That was all it had taken. Now she was gone and he did not even know where to look for her.

He sat at a crossroads, not caring who along this deserted stretch of road might see him. He had been riding all evening and far into the night, familiar with this stretch of road, knowing there was no other path that a coach could take. Now, though, he sat at this crossroad, a very metaphor for the decision he needed to make. He closed his eyes, trying to think of her, trying to listen for her. He knew it was foolish but could think of no other thing to do. She needed to tell him where she was. Surely she could do that. Surely the merciful God he believed in would not allow her to be taken from him forever.

Suddenly he remembered bits of conversation and opened his eyes. He moved his horse towards the sign posted at the edge of the crossroad and knew. He knew where to go. He knew that God had heard his prayers and that she had managed to reach out to him from wherever she was being held. He turned his horse's head to the left and went galloping down the road.

He only prayed he would be in time.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

Chapter Summary: The man who had been trying to save Annalise comes face-to-face with The Phantom. Raoul and Christine find themselves each alone in their grief. And Gustave awakes with news that gives Raoul a bit of hope and Christine a frightening revelation.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

He had ridden all night, barely able to stay in the saddle at times, the pain and dizziness in his head threatening to overwhelm him. Yet he had found the strength to hold onto the reins, to keep his tired horse moving through the dark, heading towards what he had hoped would be the salvation for both of them. He found he could do nothing else for every time he closed his eyes her face was there, not as he treasured it full of joy and life but the face of the horrified and frightened girl he had last seen. He wished he could close his ears so that he could block out her screams. He would carry these things with him for the rest of his life and knew that the only thing that would even begin to send them from his memory would be to have her safe in his arms again. So he had kept going forward for he could do no less for her.

As the morning sun began to turn the sky a soft shade of gold, chasing away the darkness of the long night, he lightly pulled back on the reins, giving exhausted horse and rider a moment to gather their bearings. Amazement began to dawn on his face as he looked around and realized how far he had come. He was so close! He closed his eyes trying to remember the snippets of conversation he had overheard.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, his memories being jumbled by the pain in his head. "Please," he pleaded to an unseen presence, "please. She needs my help." And as he sat in the saddle, head pounding, legs stiff and sore, it came to him, unbidden, an answer to his prayers. He opened his eyes, clicked his tongue, tapping the reins lightly on horse's shoulders. The tired animal slowly walked on.

It was another twenty minutes before he found that for which he had been searching - a small lane, long forgotten but maintained and passable. The entrance to the lane was still visible through the ancient beech trees and shrubs that stood guard. He gave a gentle tug on the rein in his right hand and the horse turned into the lane. He resisted the urge to push the horse into a gallop fearing the animal would collapse under the exertion. His agitated nerves began to get the better of him as the place he had been striving for all night long slowly came into view.

It did not take much control of the reins to get his horse to stop. He lifted one aching leg across the saddle and slowly slid off, almost falling as his numb feet connected with the hard ground. He leaned against the panting horse for a brief moment as the feeling returned to his lower body, stroking the horse's neck in grateful affection for a job well done. As little needles of pain began to dance through his legs, he stood up and willed his tired, aching body towards the front door of the building before him. He reached the door, leaning against it for a brief moment, his hand reaching for the handle and finding it unlocked. That was all it took.

He opened the lock, flinging the door open, bursting in to a huge entry hall where shadows clung to the walls and hovered in the corners. A middle-aged man was crossing the hall when he stopped, surprise written on his face, at the young man who burst through the front door.

"Where is he?" The man in the door managed to get out before the middle-aged man was across the hall, grabbing him, shoving him against the wall, fingers curling around his throat.

"What business do you have breaking into a private home?" the middle-aged man snarled, his fingers tightening on the throat beneath them, cutting off any answer.

"Let him go, Tomas," a strange voice said from the shadows.

Tomas looked at the young man, snarled again, but let him go. Tomas stood in front of the younger man, his eyes never leaving his face.

"What is it you want here, boy?" The shadows asked.

The young man coughed, as his breath came back to him. "Please," he began, coughing again. "I know who you are and I need your help."

"If you truly know who I am, which I doubt, you will know that asking for my help is a foolish thing, indeed," the shadows replied.

"Please," he tried again. "I have been riding since yesterday afternoon. I had not thought to make it this far so quickly. You must help me!"

"So you have said. Tomas, I grow weary of this exchange."

Tomas took one step towards the young man.

"Wait!" The man exclaimed. "I know you are a friend of Mademoiselle de Chagny." There was movement in the shadows; it emboldened him. "Yesterday afternoon," he reached up a hand to his throbbing head. "Yesterday, her brother was shot and she was taken. The man who took her shot at me and I lost them," he said quickly and was cut off by the sight of the man emerging from the shadows. He was too tired and too scared to react in any way but a confused stare as the man approached him, reaching out for his tattered jacket front.

"Repeat what you just said," the man holding onto his jacket said in a soft, deadly tone.

"Gustave was shot and Annalise was taken. I need your help."

"Is the boy alive?"

"I ... I don't know. He was alive when I left. It was Gustave who sent me after Annalise."

Erik studied the face of the boy he held onto. "Did she choose you?" he asked. "And watch you answer, boy, for I have killed men for less."

The young man swallowed, staring into the deformed face, wondering if this had all been a huge mistake. Wondering if he would end up dead and the woman he loved would be lost forever. "I don't know," he answered truthfully, "and it does not matter. I don't care about me. All that matters is Annalise!" He choked back his fear. "Oh, God! Can you not see? She needs our help!"

"That," Erik told him as he let go, "was the right answer." He turned to Tomas. "Your sources. Use them. Find out what you can."

_"Oui,"_ Tomas said simply as he left the room.

Erik laid his hand over his heart, feeling the locket that had only just arrived from Annalise. "Christine," he whispered softly, his heart breaking for her and the girl who had so touched his heart, "Oh, my little angel." A strange and frightening thought began to gnaw at the back of his mind and Erik willed it away; he would face that issue later.

"You," he addressed the young man who was barely managing to stand. "Come with me."

"We have to go after her!" he exclaimed.

Erik looked at him, an intense fire growing in the back of his eyes. "And where would you go? You do not even know where to begin to look. You will be of no use to anyone if you are dead from exhaustion." He touched the side of the young man's head. "Or die from this wound. It must be tended to."

"But, they will think .."

Erik fixed the boy with such a look as to chase all coherent thought from his mind. "I know they will think it is you. Not a very pleasant thought, is it?" Erik watched for a reaction and smiled inwardly when the boy blushed and lowered his eyes. "I know it is hard but you must rest, let me tend to your injury and allow Tomas to do what only he can." Erik extended his hand. "Now come!" he ordered.

The young man found there was nothing to do but follow that strange voice. He allowed Erik to lead him into a small parlor full of crimson roses, their scent making his head spin. He reached out and found a chair in which he sank. He winced as he felt something touch the crease in his scalp that the bullet had carved out. The last thing he remembered, as he stared out at the new morning, was the sound of that strange voice willing him to rest. He found he could not fight it.

Raoul stood by the window in his son's bedroom watching the same new morning. He reached up to rub the eyes he could not feel and thought better of it for he had no wish to close them. The images that played behind his closed eyelids terrified him beyond all thought. In the few moments throughout the night when sleep had finally claimed him, his fears translated themselves into nightmares that Raoul found he could not put into words. He kept seeing his son's coffin being lowered into the ground, his daughter a far-off shadowy figure, her cries echoing and pounding in his mind. He saw Christine lay the responsibility for all of this at his feet - because he had failed to guard her and their children - before turning and walking off into the arms of a waiting Erik. "Oh God," Raoul breathed as he turned from the window.

Christine, still sitting in the same chair by her son's beside, looked up at the sound of her husband's voice before turning her attention back to her child. She had not moved from the chair since sitting down in it the previous day. Nor had she spoken a single word since telling her husband to find her daughter and bring her home. Raoul had sat in the chair next to Christine all night long, watching as she held their son's hand, seeming to will Gustave to breathe, to live. At the least small moan or movement, Christine would reach out for Gustave's face, touching it lightly, a mother's kiss in the touch of her fingertips; it was the only thing that would quiet their son. Christine also refused to leave when the surgeon would come in to check on his patient and he had given up trying to get her to do so. The man was amazed when the Comtesse did not flinch from the sight of the stitches and bruising beneath the bandages.

Raoul knew that there had always been whispers that Christine was delicate and frail and would not thrive beyond the ordered discipline of the opera house. He had known they were lies and watching her throughout the night - strong, patient, determined - only reinforced his belief that his wife was the strongest woman he had ever known. Raoul could only pray that his daughter had the same strength. He walked over to the bed and laid a hand on Gustave's forehead and sighed, the skin was still warm and there was a slight flush beginning to color his cheeks. Raoul looked at his pocket watch and wondered when Dominic would arrive. The thought that an infection might be setting in to the bullet wound jarred Raoul's world further. He was not sure he could take much more. There was a gentle knock at the door and Raoul looked up as it opened, a brief smile crossing his face as Dominic entered with the surgeon.

"How is my patient?" Dominic asked as he reached the bed, taking Gustave's wrist in his own, feeling for a pulse.

"I think he is warm," Raoul replied.

Dominic laid a cool hand on Gustave's forehead. "A bit perhaps. It happens sometimes after these kind of injuries." He looked at Christine who had never removed her eyes from her son. "Did either of you get any rest last night?" He looked at Raoul who shook his head. "I cannot say that I am surprised." He lowered his voice. "Has there been any word on Annalise?" Dominic laid his hand on Raoul's arm at the shake of his head. "I am sorry my friend." He turned to the surgeon. "Shall we try to disinfect the wound?" The surgeon nodded. Dominic sighed, the next request would be hard for the Comtesse. "I am going to have to ask you both to leave for a few minutes so that we can treat Gustave."

Christine looked at the man who had delivered her children as if he had two heads. "No," she said; her first word in over twelve hours.

Raoul walked over and placed his hands on his wife's shoulders. "Christine ..." he started and was stunned as Christine shrugged his hands off.

"No," she repeated.

Raoul looked to their physician for assistance.

Dominic walked over to Christine and sat down in the chair next to her, laying his hand on her arm. "Madame," he began, "I know you are concerned for your children and I share your concerns. I helped you bring these wonderful people into this world and have never wanted anything but the best for them. I have taken care of them throughout their lives and now you must trust that I will have a care for your son in this time of need. Christine, please, let us do our work."

Christine looked at the man seated next to her and back at her son. She would have blinked away tears had there been any left but the only thing Christine could feel was the nothingness that had her wrapped in its grip. She kept hold of Gustave's hand as she slowly stood, leaning over him and touching her lips to his forehead. Christine rested a hand on her son's face before moving it to smooth the dark curls on the top of his head. She sighed and turned to her husband, taking the hand he extended. "I am waiting right outside this door," she told Dominic before allowing Raoul to lead her into the hallway, the door to Gustave's room clicking shut behind them.

"You should try and get something to eat," Raoul said absently.

"Do not tell me what I should do," Christine warned him.

"I only ..."

"Raoul, if you have ever loved me, you will not say another word."

"You do blame me," Raoul said almost to himself as he walked down the hall to stop the annoying ticking of the grandfather clock.

"I blame myself," Christine whispered, unable to say that to her husband for the fear of his reaction. She could not have borne it if Raoul were to turn away from her at this moment when she needed him most. She should have stayed with Erik that night, letting Raoul walk away from the both of them. It was her fault that his son was lying motionless in that room and that his daughter was in some unknown place with a man who had once declared war upon both of them. This was her payment for blindly allowing her mind and soul to be controlled by another and the one person she loved most in the world had been swept up in her punishment. Christine looked down the hall at her husband as the grandfather clock was silenced. "Raoul," she sighed, a sob in her voice, "please forgive me."

Raoul saw that his wife was looking at him as he turned from the now still clock. His heart dropped as she quickly looked away and he knew that she did blame him for what had happened. He had been the one who had talked her into letting their children have their lives back. He had been the one who had told her son it was perfectly fine to go riding that morning. He had been the one who sent her daughter to the stables. All of his promises to guard, to keep the shadows away, had all been in vain. Perhaps he should have killed Erik all those years ago in the cemetery when he had the chance and Christine's pleas be damned. It would have been far better to become the hunter that night then to have suffered through the last night, watching as the one person he loved most in the world turned into a hollow shell. "Christine," he said to himself, "please forgive me."

"No!" came a shout from behind the closed door of Gustave's bedroom.

Christine was on her feet in an instant, Raoul at her side a heartbeat later.

"Oh God," Christine cried, reaching out and finding her husband drawing her to his side, his arm about her waist a small comfort.

The door to Gustave's room and opened and the surgeon stood there. "You must come in," he said as he stood aside.

Dread was the only thing that Raoul and Christine could feel as they returned to their son's bedroom. They froze as they saw Dominic, his hands on Gustave's shoulders, trying to calm the now awake young man. Christine's hands flew to her mouth and Raoul closed his eyes in silent thanksgiving.

"I need to see my parents," Gustave was insisting as he struggled to sit up, his face flushed and drawn in pain.

"If you do not lay back down, you will destroy all the good work the surgeon has done," Dominic was telling him.

"I have to tell them," Gustave gasped in pain and collapsed onto his pillows, his eyes closing. "My sister ... I need to tell ..."

Christine and Raoul had rushed to their son's bedside as he gasped, both of them reaching out for his hand.

"My baby," Christine breathed and managed a small smile as her son looked at her. "Please lay still."

"You don't understand," Gustave said his voice strained.

Raoul laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "Lay still," he told Gustave.

Gustave closed his eyes, wincing in pain. "Annalise ..." he said and swallowed hard, his breath rapid and shallow. "I tried to stop ... I tried ..."

"We know," Christine told him. "It's alright, we know."

"No!" Gustave shouted, opening his eyes, taking a moment to catch his breath. "You don't know. I sent him ... I told him ... he went after them."

"What?" Raoul asked, a flicker of something very close to hope growing in his soul.

"I was riding ..." Gustave drew a breath, fighting past the pain that was gripping his chest. "And I saw ... there was a coach ... he grabbed her ... I tried to stop him ... I sent him after Annalise ..."

"Who has your sister?" Raoul wanted to know. "And slowly."

"I ..." Gustave stopped, breathing for a moment, the pain written across his face. "It was ... Oh God, Annalise ... it was Michaud Deschene."

Christine drew her breath in sharply. _"Oh Lord,"_ she thought, _"the sketchbook!"_

"What?" His father was stunned.

"I was riding ... Andrew ... I was riding with Andrew," Gustave arched his back against the growing pain.

"Lay still," Christine pleaded with her child. "Please, my baby, lay still."

Gustave tried to relax, easing his body back to the mattress. "I sent ... Andrew went after them," he said as he closed his eyes.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Summary: Alone with her abductor, Annalise begins to discover just how dangerous and multi-faceted he can be.

_(A/N - This was the hardest chapter I had to write to this point. It took days and several rewrites before everyone was satisfied. It is also the chapter that I asked my beta-readers not to send me hate mail about. It is violent and I think if I were the MPAA I would give this an "R" rating. Consider yourselves warned.)_

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Annalise lay on the floor of her dark cell and watched as the morning began to creep under the small opening at the bottom of the door. She had placed her bound hands under her left cheek and pulled her legs up as far as her aching pelvis would allow. Annalise sniffled and winced as she tried to shift her position for there was not a place in her body that did not hurt. She did not know what time it was or how long she had been unconscious from the drugged wine. She remembered that when she awoke, she had pounded on the door again and yelled for him and there had been no answer. As her throat protested, her voice beginning to give out, Annalise wondered if he had put her in this place and would forget that she was there. She shivered as she remembered the frightening childhood stories of the oubliette – a place where people were forgotten and left to die. Annalise found that she no longer had any desire to be frightened but – like a child – only wanted to be home and safe in the arms of her parents.

"I'm sorry," she whispered sadly, as images of her parents played in her mind. "Oh God, I am so sorry."

There was the click of a lock and Annalise tried to roll onto her back and yelped in pain. She closed her eyes tightly against the bright light that flooded the closet.

"I hope that it is me to whom you are apologizing," Michaud said as he squatted down and reached out a hand to rest against Annalise's bruised and swollen cheek.

"Please don't hit me," Annalise breathed as she opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling, unwilling, just yet, to meet his eyes for fear of what she would find there.

"Do not give me reason." Michaud reached out, taking hold of the rope that bound Annalise's wrists, stood and dragged her up with him. He raised an eyebrow at her cry of pain and sharp intake of breath, the harsh light in his eyes fading. "We are going to have to do something about that but first I think you may need to use the privy."

Annalise looked at him, managing a small smile for this one moment of kindness. She studied those dark eyes, hoping to see a familiar softness there. The tiny flicker of hope she had been kindling at his kind words was quickly damped out, as she saw the emptiness return to his eyes. No softness, no fire, there was nothing there and it chilled her to her very soul.

"Come along," Michaud said as he pulled on her bound hands, leading her out into the hallway. He walked quickly and Annalise had to skip to keep up with him, her bruised knees protesting at every movement. Michaud finally stopped in front of a closed door, turning to look at Annalise, letting her hands go. "You have five minutes."

"Please?" Annalise asked as held up her hands.

Michaud undid the rope and watched as Annalise rubbed her red, chafed wrists. "What do you say?"

"Thank you," Annalise said, swallowing her fear as she reached up a hand to touch his cheek, grateful for the gesture. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he whispered, a small smile coming and quickly going. "Four minutes, my dear."

Annalise moved past him, closing the door quickly behind her, thankful for the brief moment of something normal and real. There was a pitcher of fresh water in the room and Annalise used it rinse her hands and gently dab at her face. She found the courage to look into the mirror that hung over the small table and silent tears became sobs as she saw the handprint on her cheek. She had taken the time to inspect the bruises on her knees and lower abdomen and knew that more bruises were forming on her back and shoulders. Annalise had no compass for comprehending such violence from someone who had said they loved her but she knew she had to try and get him to listen to her; it was her only chance to get the violence to stop.

She took a deep breath, wiping dry the tears and tried to compose herself, to find the words that she needed to tell him. "Stop, stop, stop!" Annalise berated herself as her rational mind fought a losing battle through the panic and fear that filled it. "I need him to listen!" She drew a deep breath and straightened her back, wincing as her muscles pulled in opposite directions. "He has to listen," she whispered to the strange girl in the mirror. Annalise turned and walked out the door. Michaud was standing there, the rope dangling idly between his hands. She smiled at him and some little instinct made her lower her eyes. "Thank you," Annalise told him.

"You only had a minute left and I was beginning to think I would have to come in there and get you," he told her. "Let me have your hands."

"No!" Annalise felt the panic getting the better of her. She took an involuntary step back. "Please! I promise I will not try anything but please don't tie me again."

"My dear," he addressed her, a smirk on his face, the rope beginning to swing between his fingers.

"Please!" Annalise begged as a sob escaped her lips. "It hurts!"

"I am sorry for that," he whispered softly and then more strongly, "It is either the rope or the wine that waits. I cannot take the chance that you will try to leave me. That would destroy me and I do not think I could be held responsible for my actions."

Annalise's mind was racing behind her lowered eyes, trying to sort its way out of this dilemma. Either way she would be at his mercy but at least if she was drugged she would sleep and could escape for however brief a time. Perhaps, too, if she did not fight the drugged wine this time, he would be more amenable to listen to her words. Annalise swallowed hard, damping down her fears, raising her eyes. "If I agree to the wine, you will not bind me?" she wondered.

"You have my word as a gentleman," Michaud said with a mocking little bow.

It was all Annalise could do to not shoot back the angry retort on her lips. "And you will listen to what I have been trying to tell you?" she asked instead, trying to keep the quiver from her voice. She looked at the hand he extended and she took it, fighting down the nausea she felt, hoping he could not see it.

"There is much that we must talk about," Michaud told her, gripping her hand tightly, a small part of his mind taking no pleasure in the flash of pain he saw in the girl's eyes. "I shall listen to what you have to tell me as long as you do not fight the things I ask of you."

"I promise," Annalise replied wondering to where the passionate, respectful man she thought she loved had disappeared.

Annalise allowed herself to be led back to the bedroom where she had spent the night. Her breath grew rapid as Michaud left her and headed towards the closet; she did not think she could take another minute in the dark, cramped space. "Oh God," she cried, the words escaping before she could stop them, "don't put me in there again!"

"Why would I do that?" the soft-spoken reply came.

A sigh of relief escaped Annalise's lips as Michaud just closed the door, his hand holding a glass of wine that he had retrieved from the dresser that had been hidden behind the open door.

"You will need to sit down," Michaud sat and indicated the bed. "I really do not want you to fall and hurt yourself. I also do not want to pick you up off the floor."

"If ... if ..." Annalise shook her head and moved to perch on the edge of the bed. "You won't ..."

"Touch you?" Michaud shook his head, the light in his eyes a bit harsher. "I told you, did I not, that you will come to me." He placed the wine glass on the dresser and sat next to her. "I meant every word of that. You can consider yourself safe in my care."

Annalise thought his definition of safe far different from any definition she had ever learned. "May I ask you a question?" she wondered, a hesitation in her voice, bracing herself for his reply.

"I am at your service," he replied.

Annalise turned to look at him and noticed that the soft light was returning to his eyes, his shoulders not as tense, the lines in his face seeming to disappear. She breathed a sigh of relief for this was the man she had chosen. This was a man to whom she could talk. This was a man who would hear her words, understand them and let her go. Annalise sighed and decided to be the forward girl her father was always correcting. "Why did you do this?" she asked, cringing inwardly.

"Because I knew you were meant to be mine from the day I first saw you at that ridiculous school my father insisted I attend."

"I don't remember you being there."

"I saw you at the carriage, your hand in your mother's, as your brother came that first day. You were all I could see and I knew I had to have you with me. I arranged it so that your brother and I would be in all the same classes. It was all so easy to befriend him so that I could get to you." He turned to look at her, his gaze hardening, frightening Annalise with its growing intensity. "It was all so easy until that damn, smug, self-righteous, perfect little American showed up. I could not have you looking at him like that when you were supposed to look at me that way."

"But," she drew a breath and swallowed. "But that is what I have been trying to tell you ..." The muscles in her back began to burn and Annalise winced, drawing herself further onto the softness of the bed.

"What is it that you have been trying to say?" Michaud asked, the tone of his voice deepening.

"That I think I may be falling in love you," she finally managed to say as she tried reaching out a hand for him.

"What do you know about love?" he asked bitterly, not looking his hostage in the eyes.

"I am not so young or so foolish that I do not know ... Ow!" Annalise's reply was cut off as she felt a hand grip her wrist with a strength she had never known. She watched in stunned silence as Michaud turned to look at her, the angry fire in his eyes seeming to fill his whole face.

"What is it that you know, my pretty little one?" he wondered as his lips began to curl.

Annalise remembered his look from the previous night and her heart began to race. She tried to pull her wrist away from him, only to find his fingers clamping down tighter. "Please," she whispered, "that hurts."

"What do you know about pain? Or love?" Michaud asked again. "The pampered little princess ..."

"Please!" Annalise begged, the grip on her raw wrist bringing tears to her eyes. She sighed in relief and looked down as Michaud's fingers eased away. Annalise raised her eyes to thank him to find that the anger in his face had been replaced by a nothingness that was terrifying in its unfathomable depth. "Oh God," Annalise managed to get out as Michaud reached for her other hand.

"Go ahead and beg me!" Michaud hissed at Annalise as he pushed her down to the mattress covering her body with his own. He kept hold of her wrists, pinning them at either side of her head.

"Get off of me!" Annalise screamed.

"I don't want to wait for the drugs," he said between clenched teeth. "Beg me now!"

"No! I hate you!"

"You love me, remember?" he snarled as he reached in to kiss her, trying to capture her lips as Annalise kept turning her head. Michaud finally succeeded, kissing Annalise with such force that her teeth cut the inside of her lip, drawing blood. He pulled back, laughing.

Annalise was struggling to keep from crying, to keep from yelling, from screaming. Something in her mind told her to just lay still. She looked into those empty eyes, her breath catching in her throat, seeing something begin to glow in their depths. "Oh no ..." she breathed, shaking her head. "No ... no ... no ..."

"Let's see just how much you do know," a strange voice growled at her.

"No!" Annalise screamed as a knee was rammed between her thighs, Michaud's head burying itself in the hollow of her throat. "No, please don't do this," she cried, her voice barely able to overcome her sobs. "Please ..." she drew a breath as Michaud raised his head. "Please don't do this!" Annalise begged. "Please don't take this from me!" She stared at him, the tears running down her cheeks, eyes closing as she waited for her innocence to be destroyed.

"What are you doing!" Michaud shouted as he jumped off the bed, stumbling towards an ornate dresser, sagging against it. He looked at himself in the mirror. "Oh God, what have you done?" He stared back at the motionless girl on the bed; dark curls tumbled about her face, the red marks around her wrists in stark contrast to the white linens.

Annalise braved opening her eyes, wincing as she raised herself up on her arms. She looked at the man looking at her and felt her heart stop as the horror in his eyes was replaced by a smoldering anger. Annalise quickly closed her eyes in a vain, childish hope that if she could not see him, he would not see her.

Michaud saw those huge, frightened blue eyes close against him and part of him died. "I have only done what you did not have the courage to do. You are a stupid, weak ..." Michaud shook his head fiercely. "Just go away," he whispered to himself. "Just go away!"

A small porcelain figurine that sat upon the dresser found itself flying through the air to smash against the wall. The sound of the tinkling shards caused Annalise to open her eyes again.

"Oh dear God," Michaud said as he slid down the front of the dresser to sit upon the floor, his knees bent, elbows resting on them, hands entwined in his dark hair. "Why do I do these things? Why?"

Annalise struggled to a sitting position, every muscle in her body protesting her actions. She looked at the man sitting on the floor, shoulders slumped, pain written on every line of his body. Fighting back her own fears, Annalise rose to her feet, walking the few steps across to where Michaud sat. She put a hand out to the dresser and gingerly lowered herself so that she was sitting next to him. She reached out a hand, placing it on his arm, waiting for the violent response. _"Is this what it was like, Maman?"_ she wondered.

"It has always been there, you know," Michaud whispered, unmoving. "I hear the angry voice and I cannot fight it down. I remember watching myself doing things," he turned to look at the girl next to him, "evil things. I would know that I had done them but I could not stop myself."

"It will be alright," Annalise said through her tears. This was the man she remembered. This was the man she had whispered about with her girlfriends. This was the man she thought she was beginning to love. "We can make it all right."

Michaud shook his head. "I could not. We cannot. My own parents could not make it right. My battles with the angry stranger have not always been successful." He placed his head back into his hands. "There have been casualties of my battles. Fatal, fiery casualties swallowed in that red haze that he brings to me."

"Oh no," Annalise breathed, closing her eyes, a horrible thought forming in the back of her over-stressed mind. "Your parents ... I am so sorry."

"I hate my actions. I mourn my losses when clarity returns but the memories are always there, clear and accusing. They are in the back of my mind watching with me as the angry person takes control."

There was a subtle shift of Michaud's position, a curling of his fingers and Annalise closed her eyes, waiting for a blow that never came. Instead she felt his hand on her cheek, soft and warm. She leaned slightly into the touch, grateful for the comfort it brought.

Michaud looked at the still girl next to him, a sad look on his face. "You were only supposed to be a sweet pastime, a delightful seduction, a conquest to be claimed," he whispered, a catch in his voice. "I am so sorry."

Annalise's eyes opened at the gentle sound of his voice, the hurt written across her face. "I was only a pastime?" she said almost to herself.

Soft fingers subtly traced their ugly imprint upon the girl's cheek. "I never meant it to go this far. I never thought you would be so beautiful, so sweet. Oh Lord, what have I done?"

"We can still find a way ..." Annalise tried to shift into a more comfortable position, letting out a small cry as a shot of pain telegraphed itself to her over stressed mind. "Papa," she breathed without realizing what she had said.

The cord holding his control in check snapped at the sound of Annalise's voice calling for her father and Michaud rose to his feet. "You don't need anyone else but me!" he shouted as he stared at her, that deadly nothingness back in his face. "Do you hear me? You do not need anyone else!"

Annalise closed her eyes, not able to face the frightening emptiness. Her mind was quickly turning off to protect her from any further abuse and Annalise had no control over her own actions. "Erik was right ..." she whispered under her breath, as his image and words raced through her mind. Annalise's eyes snapped open as a palm connected with her left cheek.

"Who the hell is he?" Michaud yelled as he dragged Annalise up by the arms. "Who the hell is Erik?" he demanded as he shook her, shoving her hard, sending her crashing into the bed. There was a loud crack as she connected with one of the wooden posts, sliding down to sit upon the floor. Michaud was at her side, the anger seeming to flow from him as he saw the blood seeping from a cut to her head. He placed a handkerchief against her bleeding head. "Why do you make me do these things to you?" he asked in a quiet tone.

Annalise's hands flew up and tried to push him away. "Go away," she mumbled, her words slurred.

"No one tells me what to do!" Michaud shouted as he grabbed Annalise's wrists, the rope appearing from his pocket. He quickly tied her wrists together again, taking a perverse pleasure as he pulled the knot tight, eliciting a small cry from the girl beneath his hands.

He grabbed Annalise by the waist and nearly flung her back on the bed. He moved quickly to the dresser, grabbing the discarded glass of drugged wine. Michaud returned to the bed and lifted Annalise into a sitting position, repeating what he had done the previous night, forcing her to drink. When he had forced the last drop down her throat, he threw the wine glass against the far wall and forced Annalise to lay on her back.

"No," she tried protesting but the bump to her head and the heavily drugged wine were dragging her into a place of blackness and Annalise gratefully surrendered to it.

Michaud watched as Annalise drifted away, growing limp beneath his hands. He stared at her for a moment, breathing heavily, closing his eyes, trying to gain some control over his anger. He turned away from the bed, never opening his eyes to look back, as he crossed the room and opened the door. Michaud slipped from the room, closing the door behind him, finally opening his eyes as he walked down the hallway to sit upon the top stair.

"What am I going to do?" he asked the silent space.

"Just what you planned to do," came the snarled reply. "Do not even think you have any other way out of this."

"I can just take her back and let her go alongside the road. It is not too late."

"It was too late the day your mother birthed such a waste of humanity!" He laughed bitterly. "Took care of that little problem, though, didn't I? I always take care of the things you cannot stomach in your weakness."

"She does not deserve this!" Michaud shouted, remembering the soft looks, the gentle touch, the tears and all for his expense in spite of what he had done.

"She is a stupid little bitch who was falling love with someone other than you!"

Michaud regretted the words the instant they left his mouth but could not stop them as the anger washed over him like waves in a storm, drowning out his real voice, leaving behind the man he hated and could not control.

"She will crawl to me," he whispered darkly, "or she will never do anything ever again."


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Summary: Raoul and Christine continue to drift further apart. Their eldest son, Jean-Paul, learns that his friend has shot his brother and abducted his sister. And Richard, the middle son, brings news to Katherine and her cousins.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The bright summer sun shone into the great house, lighting the rooms, casting away the shadows of the night. It sparkled off of polished glass and warm wood. It illuminated dark corners and reached into deepest parts of unused rooms. The sun did its best to bring warmth and joy into the house that was no longer a home. Even the dust pixies dancing in the bright beams could not find the magic to lift the dark and somber mood that had descended, wrapping house and occupants in its cold black blanket.

Now that Gustave was sleeping normally, Raoul and the doctor tried to convince Christine to get some rest.

"I am not leaving his side," Christine told them in a flat tone of voice as she stood outside her son's door.

"Madame, please," Dominic had pleaded. "You will do your son no good if you collapse from exhaustion."

His nerves on edge as much as those of his wife, Raoul could not help the words that slipped out. "Do not be such a little fool." He knew he had said them but could not find the energy to care or to regret them.

"What?" Christine's eyes had narrowed dangerously.

"You are being foolish," Raoul repeated.

"My son has been shot," Christine said between clenched teeth, fighting back the tears. "My daughter may be dead for all you care and all you have to say to me is that I am being foolish?"

"They are my children, too!" Raoul shot back. "Do not tell me what I do and do not care about!"

"If you had ever kept your promises to me ..." Christine, also, did not have the energy to think about what she was saying.

"If you had not been seduced by that ..."

"Don't you dare!"

Raoul and Christine stared at each other, each alone in their fear, anger and guilt.

"This is not my fault!" Christine said as the tears began to fall.

"I never said it was."

"But you blame me."

Raoul could not look at his wife. "I blame myself!" he nearly shouted.

"Oh God," Christine breathed. "What are we doing?"

Dominic, who had been quietly watching, cleared his throat. "Speaking as your doctor and not your friend, I need to tell you that you are both beyond exhausted and need to get some rest. As your friend, I need to tell you that blaming each other or yourselves is going to accomplish nothing. I do not think either of you wishes at this point to say something that you will come to regret later. You both need to be strong for your children and leave the guilt, anger and recriminations to the one person who deserves it most - the man who did this." He took Raoul and Christine by the hands. "Yes?"

"Raoul," Christine said, the sobs beginning again.

"Christine," her husband replied as he took his wife in his arms.

Dominic heaved a sigh of relief as his friends stood in the hallway, wrapped in each other's arms, crying out their fears and the tension of the last day. Christine finally agreed rest; although she had vehemently refused their request of a sleeping draught, insisting that as soon as Gustave awoke she wanted to be at his side. Dominic had taken one last look at his sleeping patient before walking down the grand staircase with Raoul and the surgeon.

"You promise me that you, too, will find some time to rest?"

Raoul nodded his head. "I'll try but I must send Richard to see Katherine and her cousins. They need to know that Andrew had nothing to do with this. I need let Inspector Berube know what Gustave has said." He sighed, dreading the last thing he needed to do. "And I need to speak to Jean-Paul." He managed a weak smile. "Then I shall try and get some rest. I cannot promise, though, that it will do much good; I dread closing my eyes because of the thoughts of what Annalise might be going through." Raoul shook his head.

"It is easy for me to say do not think upon such things," Dominic told him, "for I am not a father whose daughter is missing. But I will tell you that you must keep your strength up for Annalise will need it when she returns."

"When?"

"I refuse to believe otherwise and you must do the same, no matter how difficult that may seem."

"Thank you," Raoul told him as he shook Dominic's hand, closing the door behind him and the surgeon. He sighed as he turned around, thinking of the things that still needed to be done. He saw the door to the dining room opening, Richard walking out. "Richard," Raoul called out softly to his son, motioning for the young man to follow him.

Raoul opened the door to one of the small parlors, allowing his son to enter, before closing it behind them. Raoul sat in one of the wing chairs, uncertain if he would be able to get up from it. "I need you to do something for me," he began.

"It is not Gustave?" Richard asked, fear gripping his heart tighter than he had thought possible at that moment.

"No," Raoul assured him. "No. Your brother is sleeping normally and the doctors will be back later this afternoon to look in on him. Your mother has even been convinced to try and rest."

"Thank God," Richard breathed.

"You have not asked what your brother said when he awoke."

Richard lowered his head. "I am almost afraid of what he said."

Raoul sighed, the exhaustion beginning to catch up with him. "Andrew was riding with your brother when Annalise ..." Raoul had to pause for a brief moment. "When your sister was taken. Gustave sent Andrew after your sister." Raoul managed a small smile at the relief that crossed his middle son's face.

"But," Richard said as the relief was replaced by confusion, "who did this? Who could be capable of doing such things?"

"That is going to be the hard part for Jean-Paul. The person who did this is his friend, Michaud Deschene."

Richard opened his mouth and closed it, sitting in stunned silence.

"I need you to go to the ambassador's residence and let them know what has happened. Katherine and her cousins do not need their fears hanging over them." Raoul leaned back in his chair. "There is enough of that in this house. I am asking you to do this because you are the most even-tempered of all of my children. I am counting on that balance." He raised fingers to massage the bridge of his nose. "You will need to take an unmarked coach. I am sure all of Paris knows what has happened by this time and you do not need to be answering prying questions from well-meaning, nosy people."

"Leonie is in the nursery with Chloe; she has not been able to draw herself from Chloe's side," Richard said, shaking his head. "I do not know if I would be doing as well as you should it be Chloe ... I'm sorry. I did not mean ..." He stood. "I ought to go and tell Leonie what has been said and then go to see Katherine and Monsieur and Madame Norris.

Raoul reached out for his son's hand as Richard walked by. "Richard," he told him, "you have nothing for which to feel sorry. You are a parent now so you understand."

Richard could not find the words so he just nodded and left the room.

Raoul stood slowly, drawing a deep breath, composing himself for what he had to do next. As he crossed the room, he noticed a book carelessly discarded on a side table, a blue satin ribbon marking where the reader had left off. Raoul moved to the table, opening the book and removing the ribbon. He raised it to his face, inhaling the light fragrance of lavender that still clung to it, his eyes closing as he tried to compose himself. "God, please hold her in Your hands," the whispered prayer came, "and bring her back safely to us. This place is not a home without her. Safely, God, safely." Raoul stuck his daughter's ribbon in his pocket and went to find his eldest child.

He found Jean-Paul in the dining room, a plate of untouched food in front of him. Jean-Paul looked up as the door opened, rising to his feet as his father entered the room. Raoul motioned for him to sit and took the chair next to his son.

"Your brother woke up this morning," Raoul began.

"Thank God!"

"He has a small inflammation of his wound but the doctors are not concerned."

"It is an answer to prayer." Jean-Paul heaved a sigh of relief. "May I ask if he said who did this? Did he say who has Annalise?"

Raoul could not look at his son.

"Sir?" Jean-Paul asked the concern in his voice evident upon his face. "Who is it? Please do not tell me it was Andrew for I cannot believe that young man capable of shooting his friend."

Raoul laid a hand over one of Jean-Paul's. "No, it was not Andrew," he said softly.

"What is it? I can see it in your face. What is wrong? What did Gustave say?"

"It was Michaud," Raoul said simply.

"No," Jean-Paul replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "No. No, no, no."

"Jean-Paul ..." Raoul tried.

"I trusted him," Jean-Paul said as he rose to his feet. "I had him in my house with my wife and child." He turned from his father. "Oh God, I invited him to lunch at Annalise's request! What have I done? This is my fault! I ought to have known ..."

Raoul also rose to his feet, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, gently turning him around. "There are already enough people in this family blaming themselves for what has happened. Do not add yourself to the group."

"I ought to have known!"

"How? How were you to have known?"

"I am the oldest! I ought to have known."

"Your sister," Raoul had to stop and take a breath, "has always had a mind of her own. If she truly wanted to see Michaud, she would have found a way to do so with or without your help."

"But I still ought to have known! He was always different when we were younger. He had such a temper ..." Jean-Paul's voice trailed off. "Oh God ... Annalise ..."

"Listen to me and hear what I am saying." Raoul kept his hand on his son's shoulder, making him sit. Raoul resumed sitting next to him. "This is not your responsibility. The responsibility for this lies with no one in this family, do you understand me?" Raoul used Dominic's words for he could not find his own through the guilt that still clung to his mind. He waited until his son nodded, miserably. "I want you to hold on to one thing for it is the one thing that is keeping me from going out of my mind."

"What is that?" Jean-Paul asked quietly.

"Your sister has been gifted with a wonderful mind and an amazing spirit that have carried her this far. I also know that she can be as elegant and dignified as your mother when she so chooses. I pray to God that her dignity and her spirit and her mind will see her through this and bring her home safely. If I did not think that they would, I would not be able to go on another moment without losing my mind." Raoul looked at his son, knowing that his own guilt and misery were reflected in Jean-Paul's face. "You must try. Your wife is going to be looking to you for strength and support and your mother does not need to see that look on your face. She has seen it far too often on mine."

"I shall try." He stood. "I ought to go find Therese and tell her." Jean-Paul nodded. "You were right; she is going to need my support." A question crossed his face. "Where is Richard? Does he know?"

"He does know," Raoul replied as he placed his aching head into his hands. "I sent him to the ambassador's residence."

The time for the ride to the American ambassador's residence seemed to double as Richard sat in the back of the coach, his fingers drumming on the seat next to him. He thought of his own daughter, so small and helpless, and wondered at the wisdom of bringing a child into the world if this was to be the outcome. He thought of his brothers - one who was devastated that he could not stop it from happening and one who would be equally as devastated that he had not seen it coming. He thought of his parents and how their past and their lies about that past had come back to haunt them, tearing their family and their marriage apart. But Richard's thoughts would always turn back to the missing part of his family's life and he prayed for her safety.

Richard closed his eyes. "We will not be a family again until she comes home. Please bring her back to us," he prayed softly.

"Sir?"

So lost had he been in his thoughts that Richard had not known that the coach had stopped, his driver opening the door. Richard alighted from the coach and walked up to the front door the residence, drawing a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He nodded at the doorman and walked in.

"I need to see Monsieur or Madame Norris or Mademoiselle Cameron," he told the man waiting inside the home.

"They are not seeing anyone at the moment," the man told Richard.

"Please, I think they will see me. My name is Richard de Chagny and I bring news."

A flicker of interest passed quickly over the well-trained servant's face. "Wait here," he told Richard before walking off down a hallway.

Richard fought the temptation to begin pacing. He looked around at the elegant interior of the residence and was growing bored, about ready to storm off down the hall when the servant returned.

"Please," he said, motioning for Richard to follow him.

Richard found himself ushered into a large sitting room. William Norris stood between the door through which Richard had just entered and the back of the room where his wife, Abigail, and niece, Katherine, sat. Richard could see that they had also passed a sleepless night. He also could not fail to see that Katherine had obviously spent most of the time since leaving their home the previous night in tears.

"Say what you have to say and say it quickly," William told him, an angry tone in his voice.

Richard could not fault him. "Please, sir," he started and began again. "I come with news for your family. It is not as bad as you are thinking but it is not entirely good, either."

Katherine rose unsteadily to her feet. "Andrew?"

"Gustave awoke this morning and he told my parents that he had been with Andrew when he was shot. He sent Andrew after the man who ..." Richard still had trouble saying the words. " ... shot him and took my sister."

Abigail looked horrified. "You mean to tell me that my nephew is chasing around the French countryside after a madman?"

"I knew Andrew could not have done such a thing," Katherine said as she sat back down, blindly trusting in her brother. She looked at Richard. "Gustave is going to be fine?"

"The doctors think so."

Some of the defensiveness went out of William and he extended his hand to Richard, guiding him to a chair. "Do you know who did do this? Do you know who it is that Andrew is going after?"

"A man named Michaud Deschene."

"Oh my God," Katherine breathed, her hand reaching out for Abigail's.

"Has there been any word of your sister?" Abigail wondered.

Richard shook his head sadly. "No. We have no idea where he may have taken Annalise."

"What of my young cousin?" William wanted to know.

"There has been no word from Andrew, either, and I am sorry. We are in constant touch with the police and I wish I could tell you more. I promise that as soon as I hear anything someone will come to tell you." Richard said before turning to look at Katherine. "If you would like to come back with me, I am sure that Gustave would like to see you."

"I would like that," Katherine said. She closed her eyes. "I know that Andrew will find Annalise and bring her back. I just know it."

Richard hoped that he and his family could have as much faith in this young man as his sister did.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Summary: Confronted by the immovable force that is The Phantom, Andrew is forced to reveal – among other things - a long hidden secret earning him Erik's admiration and assistance. And information from Jean-Paul gives the police a place to start searching for Annalise.

_(A/N – A personal note – thanks must go to a delightfully evil beta reader who refuses to let my characters be "cardboard cutouts"; insisting, instead, that they be real, imperfect people. This story is just that much better because of it.)_

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Andrew kept his eyes closed as the pounding in his head descended to a level that he could tolerate. He tried to remember what had happened. Andrew felt something that seemed to be clinging to the side of his head. His brow knitted in concentration as he tried to think of why there would only be something on one side of his head and not the other. He remembered a gunshot. He remembered chasing after a racing coach. He remembered ... Andrew's eyelids flew open. He remembered he had been trying to save Annalise and now he had been sleeping, wasting precious time. Andrew tried to stand and found he could not. He looked down to see a rope wound around his chest and upper arms, binding him to the chair in which he sat.

"I see you have returned to the world of the living," a voice seemed to say from every corner of the room. "Welcome back, monsieur."

Andrew could have sworn there was a smile in those words; he did not find it amusing. "Let me out of this damn thing!" he shouted as he struggled against the rope.

"Why?"

Again that damn tone of voice that suggested the speaker was toying with him. "I have to save her and I cannot do that if I cannot leave!"

"Do you even know if she wants to be saved?" came the question. "Maybe she is happy with the man she is with. Maybe she chose him over you. Maybe she just wants you to walk away and let her be happy."

"Goddamn you, bastard!" Andrew continued to struggle against his bonds.

"He has done that indeed."

"Let me go!"

"Once again, I ask why?"

"Because if you do not let me go now, I shall kill you when you do set me free!"

"Then I fear you shall be spending the rest of your days in that chair for I have no desire to be killed." The amused tone of that disembodied voice changed. It grew darker, more deadly. "And what do you know of killing, little boy?"

"I am not a boy!" Andrew exclaimed. "I have killed before and I would have no compunctions about ending your miserable life if you do not let me out of this chair!"

"Did you enjoy the killing?"

Andrew was momentarily shocked into silence.

"Answer my question."

"No," came the reply.

"Answer my question," the voice ordered.

"I said no!"

"Answer my question." This time it was hissed.

Andrew lifted his eyes towards the ceiling, finding he could not resist that voice. "Yes, alright, yes! Are you happy now?"

"No."

"What the hell do you want from me?" Andrew shouted in anger and desperation.

"Why did you enjoy it?" There was a very pregnant pause. "And do not lie to me for I will know and it will not be pleasant for you."

"Damn you," Andrew whispered to himself, feeling tears of frustration sting at the corners of his eyes. "Damn you." He felt the rope tighten, crushing his ribs.

"Where is my answer, boy?"

"A girl's life is at stake!" Andrew yelled. "Let me go!"

"First - the truth. Consider that if you do not tell me, this girl you seek to save will forever be lost to you and to her family. Think upon that before you speak."

Andrew swallowed, hard, knowing that he would need to say something he had never uttered to another living soul in nearly eight years. He knew he could not do otherwise if he were to have any chance of finding Annalise and bringing her home safely. "I was barely thirteen at the time and it was exciting to know that I had that kind of power over another life just by a simple squeeze of a trigger. It amazed me to see the look on that man's face as he realized his life had been ended by a child." Andrew hung his head, the shame of baring this hidden truth overwhelming him. "I liked the power it gave me. Are you happy now?" Andrew looked in amazement as the rope binding him to the chair fell away.

"Yes," the voice replied. "Yes, I am."

"Then show yourself, coward!" Andrew demanded as he finally stood, looking around dark shadows of the room.

"Men have died for less," the voice told him.

"I am not scared of dying and I am not scared of you!"

"You ought to be, boy."

"I am not! I came to you for help and this is what I get? Is it?" Andrew shook his head in hurt and anger. "Then you can just go back to the depths you crawled from. You do not scare me, Phantom ..." There was an amused chuckle from the shadows. "Oh, I know who you are and I have heard the story of what you did to Annalise's parents. I am not going to stand here and let her suffer the same fate at the hands of your successor!"

Andrew made to move towards the door to the room only to find that he was grabbed from behind and pushed into the nearest wall. Strong hands turned him around, one grabbing his throat and applying just enough pressure so that he could breathe but could not move. Andrew found himself staring into the glowing eyes of The Phantom.

"You do not know anything about me, boy!" Erik told him, his voice soft and deadly. "So do not presume that you do. And if you ever say anything about Annalise's mother in that tone again, I shall rip your throat out. Do you understand me?"

Andrew found that he could only nod.

Erik leaned close to Andrew so that their faces were nearly touching. "How hard are you willing to fight for Annalise? Hmmm? Are you willing to kill for her?" Erik cocked his head. "Are you willing to make me the first victim?"

Andrew lost his temper, bringing up his hands, grabbing at Erik's, ripping them away from his body. He did not even stop to catch his breath but used the leverage he had gained by holding those hands and pushed Erik backwards. Andrew watched as Erik took two faltering steps backwards and raised his fist, letting it fly in the direction of the older man. It would never connect. Something hit Andrew just below the knees and he dropped to all fours. He found his airway cutoff by something pressing across his neck.

"Well done," Erik breathed into his ear. "I am going to release my cane and you will stand. If you try anything else I shall slit your throat. Do you understand me?"

Andrew nodded and the bar across his throat was released. He coughed, staying on the floor for a moment. When he looked up, there was a hand waiting for him. He took it and allowed Erik to help him get back to his feet.

"You are insane," Andrew breathed.

"So I have been told."

"Why did I ever think to come to you for help?"

"Because you are smarter then I would give you credit for," Erik told him, pointing to a chair. "You will have a seat and you will listen to what I have to say."

Andrew did as he was told.

Erik remained on his feet. "I needed to see just how far you were willing to go to save my little angel. Any man who would willingly attack the infamous Phantom of the Opera to save another is either very stupid or very brave." He thought for a moment. "Perhaps it is both." Erik shrugged. "Either way you have proven yourself worthy of my help."

"What?" Andrew asked in amazement. "You did all of that to find out if I am worthy of your help? You are insane!"

"Do not even think of standing," Erik warned him, a small smile on his face as he noticed the change in body posture. "I know of only one other man who has ever dared to confront me as you have done and lived to tell of it." He noticed the question on Andrew's face and managed a brief laugh. "So you do not know as much as you think you do. If you did know the whole ugly truth of what I had done you would know that the other man is Annalise's father." Erik's voice grew softer for a moment. "Although he did not save the girl, the girl saved him." Erik ran appraising eyes over Andrew, causing the younger man to look away. "But you are different from him; you have a harder core to you. You are more like me."

That remark caused Andrew to raise his eyes. "I am nothing like you!" he spat back.

"Be thankful you are," Erik told him without missing a beat. "You will need that hardness if you hope to get Annalise back." He raised an eyebrow at Andrew. "And what if she does not wish to come with you?"

"You were not there," Andrew told him, shaking his head. "You did not hear her screams. You did not see the look on her face. I wish to God that I had not." There was a silence in the room. "It does not matter what I want, does it? Once I find her, I will do whatever Annalise wishes. If she wants me to walk away then I shall do so."

"What is it that you want?"

There was not a chance of lying to the man in front of him; Andrew had learned that lesson quickly. "I want to marry her," he said simply.

"Regardless of what may happen to her?"

"What do you mean ..." Knowledge crossed Andrew's face and he grew angry. "You bastard."

"Sit down!" Erik commanded as Andrew had started to stand. "I know more of this world than you could ever possibly hope to know. I am not blind as to what could happen to a young woman in the power of a madman." He laughed that awful laugh again. "I know for I had those thoughts many years ago."

"I don't care," Andrew said. "I love her soul and her spirit and ..." he shook his head, burying his face in his hands. "I just love her. I want her back."

"Well done, young man," Erik said under his breath and more loudly, "Oh, you shall get her back, that I promise you," Erik told him. "You ought to know that I would go to the ends of the Earth to find this child. I would do it for her mother because I know that this is tearing my angel apart. And I would do it for Annalise because she accepted me without question and without fear." Erik's voice lowered and softened. "I have been paying penance for sins - real and imagined - for my entire life. Perhaps if I can help return Annalise to her family, my debt will have been paid."

Andrew raised his head. "Then we must go!"

"We cannot go anywhere until Tomas gets back. Or had you forgotten about him?" Erik saw the telltale memory cross Andrew's face. "I thought as much. Tomas comes from the same place as I do - the depths of the world you and Annalise inhabit. Whereas it would be difficult for me to leave this place and move about freely, Tomas does not share those fetters. If you care to recall, you will remember that I sent him out of here earlier. He is seeking out his contacts and learning what he can. If there is any trace of Annalise to be found, Tomas and his friends will know of it. We can do nothing but wait at this point."

"Very well," Andrew said as he looked to the side and away from Erik.

"You do not like my answer? No? But you accept it. It is just as well that you do for I will help you but I will not tolerate any questioning of my actions. That is understood." There was no answer. "Yes?" Erik asked emphatically.

"Yes!"

"Good. Now," Erik continued, "who else would begin to know where to look for me?"

Andrew closed his eyes and thought of Katherine.

"There is someone," Erik said. "Who is it?" There was no answer. "Do not try my patience, boy."

Andrew looked at him, fire in his eyes. "My name is Andrew!"

"Who is it, then, Andrew?" Erik asked in mockingly polite tone of voice.

"It is my sister, Kitt," Andrew shook his head, "- Katherine; she and Annalise shared secrets. I know that Annalise told her of you because Kitt let it slip one day."

Erik crossed his arms and smirked at the young man. "You made her tell, did you not?"

Andrew was growing tired of the way that Erik seemed to know his truths. "Yes, I made her tell me everything she knew after she let your name slip."

"Who else knows?"

"No one of whom I am aware," Andrew replied. "And do not even think of going near my sister!" he warned Erik.

"Do not exert yourself on that matter," Erik told him with a smile. "I just wanted to know if there was any chance of the gendarmes breaking down my door before Tomas had a chance to get back." He thought for a moment. "I suppose I ought to feed you and then you should get some more rest."

"But Annalise ..." Andrew tried.

"Tomas," Erik reminded him and was pleased to see that Andrew nodded. "So you can listen when someone tells you something. You continue to raise yourself in my eyes. You will stay here and rest while I go see what Tomas has left in our meager pantry." Erik's eyes glittered dangerously. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Andrew told him, leaving back into the chair and reaching up to touch the bandage that covered his head wound. "Thank you for this," he told Erik as he winced, finally acknowledging the pain that he had been trying to ignore.

"You're welcome," Erik said. "Now stay where you are and I shall return in a few moments."

Andrew managed a nod and listened to the sound of retreating footsteps. "Oh God, don't let this be the biggest mistake of my life," he breathed. His thoughts returned to the woman he loved. "I will find you," he promised into the quiet room.

"We will find her," Inspector Berube was promising Annalise's father at the same time. He closed his notebook, "now that we know where to begin."

Raoul nodded, too tired to manage much else.

The inspector turned to look at Jean-Paul. "Thank you for his Paris address; it gives us a place to start looking. Do you know of any other properties to which he may have access?"

"His parents had a country home," Jean-Paul furrowed his brow as he tried to remember, "in Rouen but it was destroyed in a fire." He turned to look at his father. "You do not ..."

"Do not even think that," Raoul said as another frightening image was added to his nightmares.

"If he headed towards Rouen that could mean he was trying to get to Le Havre," the inspector thought out loud. "Does he own a boat?"

Jean-Paul cast a worried look at the inspector. "I don't know!"

"It would not be hard to hire one," the inspector told him. "From Le Havre he could go anywhere."

"Oh Lord," Raoul whispered as he closed his eyes; another nightmare added.

"I would tell you not to worry but that would be useless," the inspector said. "I will go now but I will send word as soon as we know something. I promise to keep you informed as to what is happening. Please give my regards to the Comtesse and assure her that we will find your daughter. Know that our prayers are with Mademoiselle."

"Thank you," Raoul told him.

Jean-Paul extended his hand, "Come, Inspector, and I shall show you out." He gave his father a wan smile as he led the inspector from the room.

Raoul barely heard the door open and shut. He struggled to find the strength to stand - he wanted to go and look in on his son and his wife - but found he lacked energy for anything but the fear that held him in its grip. Raoul fought against the sleep that tried to claim his exhausted body for the knowledge of the nightmares that sleep would bring. It was a losing battle and as his eyes closed, his body giving in, his final coherent thought was of a tiny infant held close one autumn afternoon so many years ago.

"Annalise," he breathed as sleep, at last, claimed him


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Summary: Reality and nightmares become entwined as Annalise succumbs to the drug-induced confusion of her captivity.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Annalise has lost the ability to tell time and during these quiet moments when she waits for her nightmare to end she finds that she does not mind the loss so much. This is such a moment. It is a moment when she can remember the life before the nightmare that will not let her go. Annalise knows it is a life that continues and she cannot wait to rejoin it, no longer able to know how many days or hours it has been since she last awoke from troubled slumber to the faces and voices of loved ones. She lays motionless on the large bed, her hands crossed over her heart, motionless, because she does not want to scare away the angel that brings the magic elixir that will end her nightmare, returning her to the world beyond the locked door for which she now yearns. She lays motionless because she fears the violence and the anger and the nothingness that will often scare away her angel. Annalise has learned her lessons well and lays as still and as quiet as the grave.

"I am so sorry," she had heard the angel saying as she struggled to open her eyes, her head pounding. There was a gentle finger on her lips. "Please be careful of what you say," the voice had warned.

Annalise had finally opened her eyes; vision cloudy and blurred, the tears beginning as she found that her wrists were again tightly bound. She had tried pulling her hands apart only to find that the rope bit tighter into already raw flesh. "Get this off of me!" she had yelled in her panic. Her frightened panic had brought forth the angry stranger, earning Annalise a wrenched shoulder before she was made to choke down a vile of noxious brew from the very depths of Hell.

Her angel had to have reached into the frightening darkness for her because he had been there waiting as she had floated on soft white clouds, her wrists were free, arms floating along the summer currents. Annalise had brushed her hair back and found the clouds wrapped around the wound on her forehead from the angry stranger. Annalise reached out for her angel, turning him around and smiled at Michaud. She laughed for she had not known he shared her cloud.

"I did not know you were awake," the gentle voice had said, arms reaching out for her, reassuring Annalise that it was safe to touch, to gain a small amount of comfort from another human being.

"Thank you," she had told him, her hand a feather touch on his arm.

"Is there anything else you need?" the question had come.

"Please," she had begun softly, "can you go down to the gardens and let my parents know I am here. I fear they might be frantic for I did not tell them where I was hiding." She smiled mischievously. "And you must promise not to tell where my brother is hiding!" Suddenly she was pulled back into the nightmare behind the locked door as fingers curled tightly about her wrist.

"I told you that you do not need anyone else," the angry stranger had snarled at her as he dragged her to the small dark closet, leaving her to fade into the inviting arms of drug-induced slumber.

Annalise returned to consciousness still in the dark of the closet. She had begun to reach for the door, some instinct making her draw back at the last moment. She had moved into one of the back corners, drawing her knees as close as the pain would allow, wrapping her arms about her legs and bowing her head so that he would not hear her cries. She did not know how long she had sobbed out her fears but there were no tears left when she had finished. She had wept for a brother she was not sure still lived. She had wept for two other brothers who she cherished for their care and counsel. She wept for two small children she was certain she would never see grow up. She wept for the parents she knew were grieving and prayed they would remember how much she loved them. She wept for a sad and lonely man because now she understood the look in his eyes. She wept for misplaced trusts and lost possibilities and when she had finished weeping she began to think. So it was that when the door to her cramped prison opened Annalise was able to meet the face that frowned upon her with a small smile.

The wine that she had finally been allowed to sip on her own had sent her aching body floating into the air. She had handed him the glass and lain gingerly on the bed, feeling the pain disappear, feeling her soul leave her body, surrendering to the comforting darkness that held out its hands. As the darkness drifted away, Annalise felt an arm about her waist, warmth spreading over her entire back, fingers playing with her curls. She made a happy little sound as she realized that her angel was lying behind her. Annalise had slowly opened her eyes, moving a hand so that it rested against the arm about her waist.

"I am glad you are awake," the gentle voice had said. "I am so sorry for the closet."

Annalise had entwined the fingers of her free hand with the one that fingered her hair. "It is I who should be apologizing to you, my dear guardian angel" she had sighed softly. "I am very young and very foolish and I truly do not mean to cause you such trouble." She felt him bury his face in her neck at those words, his shoulders shaking with his sobs. "I just wanted to see what it would be like to hold you in my arms as you slept," she heard him whisper. "Then stay with me," Annalise told him, "but angels should never weep."

More wine. More darkness and with the darkness came the freedom of the world beyond the locked door of her nightmares. She was running through bright gardens chasing, but never quite catching, laughing boys until they were called in for dinner. Sometimes she would sit on a familiar lap, safe in strong arms, listening to stories of imaginary beings in far-off lands. The freedom she treasured most, though, was listening to the soft clear voice of an angel singing blessings of heaven upon a long peaceful night of dreams. Dreams of faces and voices. So many faces, all fading into and out from each other; smiling, frowning, happy, sad, familiar, frightening. Voices moving into and out of the faces like wind through the trees; laughing, shouting, singing, crying. Faces and voices swirled into and out of each other in a dance of color and sound moving faster and faster until all that was left was an explosion of light that cut through the empty night. The light fell like stars, coalescing into a single face. A single voice. It was that face and that voice that greeted Annalise as she opened her eyes only to fade away into the locked room of her nightmares like an ungranted wish. She would not weep aloud for the fear of what beast the crying would bring forth. Annalise allowed her heart to do the crying as she realized that he would never find her in this place of evil. "Andrew," her mind had whispered, "what have I done?"

"You have never asked why," Michaud had said as he handed her another glass of wine.

Annalise had taken the glass, sipping at it, smiling at her guardian angel. "You are an angel," she said, "the priests always said we should trust the angels because they watched over us."

A hand had reached out to grab at herbringing a flash of pain that radiated up her arm. "Do you not care?" an angry voice had demanded of her.

Annalise had closed her eyes, as her nightmare chased away her reality and her angel, leaving only the angry stranger. Annalise tried willing herself to be still; hoping her actions would prevent further pain. She had hoped in vain as a hand reached out to pull, roughly, on her hair. She bit back the cry her throat longed to release.

"Open your eyes and look at me!" came the demand. She had opened her eyes to look into the nothingness that always came with the anger. "Do you know what this drug will do to you?" She found her shoulders gripped tightly, her whole body being shaken, the wine splashing over her. "Do you?" His nose had flared, lips curling. "It is creating a physical need in you. When I stop giving it to you, your body will begin to long for it. It will cry out in pain and sickness for the only thing that will bring relief." He had leaned close, rubbing against her bruised face. "And that is when you will come crawling to me, begging me for the one thing that will stop the pain. That is when you will be willing to do anything for me."

Annalise had felt the nausea rising within her.

"And who will want the pretty daughter of the rich Vicomte when she is nothing more than a pathetic drug-addicted gutter snipe? No one will want you. Not that perfect little boy whose name you whisper in your sleep. And certainly not your fine family. There will be no one but me."

The nothingness had forced poison down her throat, no words spoken or emotions revealed as she choked, trying to catch her breath. There was a crack of thunder and the nothingness melted into the evil that Annalise feared most of all. She tried to struggle against it as she was lifted up and placed over its shoulder but the poison was slowly claiming its victim. Annalise's efforts had grown feeble as she was carried down into the depths of Hell and onto a plain where demons danced to pounding drums and flashes of fire. "You are filthy," the evil had told her as it gripped the front of the night shift she wore. "You cannot even handle a simple glass of wine." The evil had placed her on the ground at the feet of a demon. Fear held Annalise in its grip as the evil wrenched her numb arms behind her. The demon reached down its spindly arms, binding her wrists together, wrapping its green tentacles around her chest. There was another flash of fire and cold tears of demon mirth began to fall upon her head. The evil raised its face to the falling tears and laughed before reaching down to touch her chin. "This should get you clean," it had said as it turned and walked away, leaving Annalise alone with the weeping demons. There was no escape from her nightmares this time as she slipped into oblivion, his words echoing in her head - "No one will want you."

She had reveled in the warmth that enveloped her, its gentle weight taking away - for however briefly - the pain that had become her constant companion. She feared to open her eyes for to do so would bring the nightmares flooding back and the warmth would flee leaving her with the angry, evil nothingness. Yet there was a soft hand on the back of neck, gently raising her head, the lip of a warm cup placed against her lips.

"You must drink this," a voice was saying.

Annalise had smiled, knowing that the nightmares were gone and she was awake again. There was someone who still wanted her, there was still hope. She had opened her eyes to see who shared her dream and found herself staring into the concerned eyes of Michaud, her guardian angel. She raised shaking hands to the ones holding the cup to her lips, closing her eyes again as the familiar comfort of hot tea ran down her throat, warming the body she now felt shaking. She had sipped the tea with eyes closed until it was gone and sank back into the pillows of the bed, feeling the bed dip as Michaud had sat next to her.

"Please," he had begun in a voice that sounded like a guilty child.

Annalise had opened her eyes, reaching out for him, drawing him close. She had held him while he cried, murmuring to him. "We can find a way," she kept repeating until the drug in the tea swept her away, "we can find a way."

So now she waited in a place where time had no meaning. Waited for Michaud to bring the drugged wine that would set her free, allowing her to fly and dance in the colors of a world where there was no pain, no fear, no guilt. She waited for the nightmares to go away and her family to become real and touchable once more. She waited, quiet and still, so that the evil and the anger and the nothingness would see that she was no threat and the chance of more pain would fade even as she faded. Most of all she waited for the oblivion that the wine would bring so that she could forget her folly and stupidity. She had been caught up in the romantic notions of a child and had failed to see the love that had been patiently standing by. She thought of Erik, the Opera Ghost, the Phantom, the man who had been so obsessed with her mother that he had nearly lost sight of the real love that had been before him. He had lost and now she had lost. She had failed to heed his words. She had failed to heed her mother's words. Now it was too late. She had found an honest and real love - the love that Michaud had known was there, its knowledge driving him over the edge - only to know that it was gone forever, taking Andrew with it. He would not want her after this. No one would want her after this, no one but her guardian angel.

The door clicked open and Annalise raised her head, smiling as she saw Michaud standing in the doorway. She struggled to sit up and found him at her side, taking her hands in his own, easily raising her to a sitting position. Annalise saw the room start to spin around her and she closed her eyes, leaning into the chest in front of her.

"What is the matter?" Annalise heard Michaud ask as his hand stroked her head.

"My head," she whispered, sensing as he sat down next to her on the bed. She felt his hand on her chin and opened her eyes to look. Her guardian angel was there but there was a decided tilt of his jaw, a set of his shoulders and Annalise knew the anger was just beneath the surface.

"It is the drug," Michaud replied.

Annalise could only nod.

"You do not care?"

"I have you to care for me now," Annalise replied a small smile crossing her face. "You know what is best and I will do as you ask."

The anger began to assert itself. "You do know I sent you those presents?"

"I would nod but my head might fall off," Annalise giggled. She reached out to lay a hand on Michaud's cheek. "I thought they were lovely presents. The music was nice but I wish you had sent the whole opera. And the mask was very pretty, all sparkly and mysterious. But the best gift was the rose. I was never allowed to have roses. That was very, very sweet of you."

The anger began to give way to confusion. "They were not meant to be sweet. They were meant to push you into my bed!"

Annalise looked down and then back up. "I think that might be where I am." She caressed the cheek she still palmed before moving her fingers to trace the mouth that frowned in disbelief. "They worked very well," she said softly. "You are so very smart."

Michaud closed his eyes and Annalise felt him begin to shake. She watched as emotions raged through his body, his posture changing, his facial expressions seeming to meld into one constant mass of changing bone and flesh. "You ... you ... you ..." Michaud breathed.

"You ... you ... you ..." Annalise echoed as she leaned into him, resting her head against his beating heart, entwining her arms about his neck. She felt his arms go about her waist and rubbed her head against his chest, settling her ear against the beating of his heart.

They stayed like that, locked in each other's arms for what seemed like an eternity to Annalise. Finally she felt him pull away from her. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at him, a small part of her mind screaming in triumph. She did not see the anger or the evil or the nothingness reflected in his eyes. Annalise did not see her guardian angel. She did not even see Michaud. She only saw something she had seen as a child when her brothers had been scolded for making her cry - it was the look of a confused, frightened little boy. She reached out a hand for him and he quickly stood up, reaching for the full glass of wine on the dresser. Annalise took it and swallowed it down quickly.

"What are you doing?" Michaud asked in wonderment.

Annalise lowered her eyes, feeling the familiar warmth begin to creep outwards from her stomach. "I am doing only what you desire of me," she told him with a sly smile.

The anger crept back in. "Do not mistake desire for love," it warned her.

Annalise sighed and sneezed as she felt the numbness begin to seep into every limb. She lay back down on the bed. "Desire ... passion ..." she yawned. "I am my mother's daughter why should I not have what she gave up?"

"Why indeed," came the answer.

Annalise heard footsteps recede, the door open, close and lock. She shivered as uncontrollable fingers tried to draw the duvet around her. She was not sure if the shiver came from the chill that permeated her bones or from the thought of what she had just done. Annalise found that she did not care as the laudanum claimed her again.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Summary: Gustave and Katherine share a moment of comfort. Events of the last days cause Raoul and Christine to come to a sad realization. Inspector Berube brings news that brings a bit of hope.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Gustave sat in bed, propped up by pillows to cushion his back. He stared dejectedly out the bedroom window at a hummingbird burying its head in one of the morning glories the crept along the edge of the window. He wanted to throw something at that stupid bird to shoo it away. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs for the bright morning to just go away. He wanted to get up and go do something ... anything! Gustave sighed for he knew well that he was not getting out of his bed without help. That last time that he had tried to move by himself, the pain had nearly caused him to pass out and his mother had ending up sitting by his side for hours. He could handle the pain; it was the look on his mother's face that he could not handle. Gustave closed his eyes as a knock came at his door.

"May I come in, please?" a female voice asked.

Gustave managed a smile as he turned towards the door to see Katherine sticking her head in. "I should like that," he said.

Katherine entered the room, nodding to the nurse who sat quietly in a corner, a book open in her lap. She crossed the short distance to stand at the foot of the bed. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything. I must go to Paris this afternoon to let my cousins know what is happening and wondered if you might like something to brighten your day. There is a wonderful little _patisserie_ that Annalise ..." Katherine stopped speaking and looked away. "I'm sorry."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," Gustave told her softly and patted the bed next to him. "Come and sit for a moment, please." He waited until Katherine had gently lowered herself onto the bed, taking her hand. "You can say her name." He winced as his weight shifted. "It is almost as if anyone says her name it will mean that she is not coming back and I refuse to accept that." A flash of anger crossed his face. "I cannot and will not believe that Annalise is not coming home."

"Andrew will find her. I know he will."

Gustave managed a small smile. "It would seem Andrew and I are both fortunate in our sisters," the smile disappeared from his face, "and their unerring belief in our abilities." He leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes. "I wish I could get up. I wish I could just shake everyone. I wish I had been able to ... " He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. "I wonder if Annalise will ever forgive me for failing her when she needed me most."

"You did not fail her!" Katherine exclaimed.

"I did, though, Katherine; I failed her. I should have gone to her the minute I saw her leave the gardens. I should have known something was wrong when I saw that damn coach stop. If only I had been smarter or faster, none of this would have happened and my sister would be here annoying me to distraction." Gustave shook his head, fighting back the tears. "I miss her so much and I cannot bear to think about what she might be going through." He looked at the silent girl next to him and saw the tears fall. "Oh Lord," he breathed, "I did not mean ..."

"I know," Katherine replied. "I am afraid for Annalise, too; she is my friend and I look up to her. I know you did not mean to forget about Andrew." She sniffled. "Just as you fear for your sister, I fear for my brother. I cling to my belief that he will find her and bring her home just as you cling to your belief that she is alive and will be coming home. But there are moments when my fears override my faith and I wonder if the fact that we have not had word in four days means that ...," Katherine drew a deep breath, "that something has happened to Andrew."

"I do not believe that and you must not."

"Now who is encouraging whom?"

"Hold to your faith that Andrew will bring Annalise home and I shall hold on with you." Gustave lightly squeezed the hand he held. "Perhaps together our faith will be sufficient to bring them back to us."

Christine had stood outside the door to her son's room, listening, not wanting to intrude. She knew Gustave had found her presence smothering but her fear of having another child slip away without warning was too much to bear. So it had been that when Raoul suggested Katherine come to stay with them so that she could be there when Andrew and Annalise returned, Gustave had agreed without hesitation. Christine was not blind and knew that Katherine's company lifted her son's spirits, however slightly, and that would aid in his recovery. The young people shared a bond into which she would not have thought of intruding and for the mutual comfort the bond brought to each of them Christine would be eternally grateful. She walked softly away from Gustave's room before Katherine could leave, guilty for listening, guilty for not being able to help her son through his grief and anxiety, guilty for being selfishly wrapped up in her own.

Christine stopped before another door, gathering her strength, before walking into her daughter's bedroom. She had forbidden Annalise's maid - and everyone else in the household - from touching anything until Annalise returned. Christine remained in the doorway, looking around, seeing everything just as it had been four days previous; the toiletries scattered carelessly across the dressing table, a dress tossed absently across the back of a chair, the sketchbook and letter resting on the bed where Christine had left them. She walked across the room and sat on the bed, picking up the letter, studying the almost forgotten handwriting.

"You still think of me as your angel," Christine whispered as she read the words flowing across the paper. "After all I did to you, I am still your angel." She ran fingertips over the paper as buried memories forced their way into the light of her thoughts, adding to the guilty weight she already bore. "After I betrayed you; after I left you in the dark; after everything you still love me." She did not try to stop the tears. "And my daughter. You love my daughter." She put the letter down and picked up the sketchbook, looking at the drawing of Erik that Annalise had done. "She loves you, too; I can see it in every line." Christine looked up as a mourning dove landed on the windowsill, cooing at her. "My angel ..." her voice broke and she let the grief and guilt of twenty-six years wash over her.

She had no idea how for how long she had wept or when the tears had finally stopped but she looked up when her husband had called her name.

"What are you doing?" Raoul wanted to know, even though he knew what she was doing and it broke a piece of his soul away.

Christine held onto the sketchbook. "You need to see something," she told Raoul and waited until he came to sit by her side. "Do you ..." Christine shook her head, willing away the tears that were always so close to the surface. "Do you remember how ... how happy Annalise was that morning?"

Raoul found he could only nod his head. He looked at his wife as she laid a hand on his arm.

"You are not a young girl with stars in your eyes so you did not see what I saw that morning."

"What did I not see?" Raoul was confused.

"Our daughter," the words hurt to say but Christine continued, "our daughter was falling in love."

"I do not believe that."

"Raoul, I was that seventeen year old girl or have you forgotten? Do you not remember the night on the roof of the opera house? Do you not remember how we looked at each other?"

Raoul closed his eyes, a hand covering the one that rested on his arm. "I have never forgotten."

"I think I know with whom Annalise thought she was falling in love," Christine said softly, taking her hand back, flipping the page of the sketchbook and holding it for Raoul to see. She watched as he looked at the drawing of the man who had taken his daughter, his lips setting in a thin, hard line.

"How long have you known about this?" he asked softly.

"Since that afternoon," Christine replied. "I was going to talk with Annalise after ... after ..." her voice broke. She looked at her husband, the unyielding look on his face. "Do not even think that," she warned him.

"How do you know what I am thinking?"

"After almost twenty-five years of marriage, I know the looks you wear upon your face. I know how stubborn you can be." Christine sighed miserably. "I know what you are thinking because I had the same thought for a brief moment and I know that you think my daughter is repeating my actions, my mistakes."

"I did not ..."

"Do not lie to me, Raoul," Christine told him in a tired voice, "for I do not have the energy to deal with your lies."

"I was not going to lie and you do not know what I was thinking." Raoul sighed and stood, walking to the dresser and picking up a very old, slightly tattered rag doll, holding it lovingly in his hands. "I was thinking that the priests were right and that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children. If I had not asked you to betray Erik all those years ago, making you turn against the man you looked up to and admired," he turned to look at her, "and - yes - loved, then none of this would have happened. You and our children are paying for my sins and God! I wish I could make this go away but I cannot!"

The sad, lonely silence in the room was deafening.

"Do you remember when the boys ripped the arm off this doll?" Raoul finally broke the silence, crossing the room to resume sitting next to his wife. "Annalise could not have been more than six ..."

"Five," Christine corrected him, reaching out to touch the old doll. "It was her favorite doll and she was so upset with her brothers." She managed a small smile for her husband. "And she came to you, looking for you to fix the arm and her broken little heart."

"And you fixed the doll's arm."

"And you fixed her broken heart." Christine sighed, losing herself in the memory. "You helped her hide all the boys' toy soldiers and then took her to Paris for the weekend so that there would be no one at home to tell the hiding spot. They were so miserable."

"I do not think the boys ever tried to break anything of hers ever again," Raoul said.

Christine left her hand on the doll, not wanting to look at her husband. "It's broken, is it not?"

Raoul sighed, knowing she did not mean the doll. "Yes."

"Even if ..." Christine paused, correcting herself, "when. Even when Annalise comes home it will never be the same, will it?"

"I do not know," Raoul admitted sadly. "I do not know if we will ever be able to find the pieces that can put it back together again."

Christine laid her head upon her husband's shoulder.

They sat like that for a long time, hands upon their daughter's favorite childhood toy, Christine's head upon Raoul's shoulder, mourning an intangible loss that neither could fully comprehend. The silence was broken by the sound of someone clearing a throat, a gentle knock at the door. Raoul and Christine looked up to see Richard standing there.

"I do not wish to intrude," he began, "but Inspector Berube is downstairs." He saw the look of hope that passed over their faces. "I am sorry but he is alone. He just wishes to update Father."

"I should go," Raoul told Christine as he handed her the doll. "Will you be alright for a few moments?"

"I am not that seventeen year old girl anymore."

Raoul gave his wife's hand a squeeze as he stood; the look on his face sad and wistful. "No, you are not." He turned to his son. "Take me to the inspector." Raoul followed Richard out the door, not looking back, not seeing the tears the tears that his wife shed as she hugged the old rag doll.

"Where is Jean-Paul?" Raoul asked as he and Richard reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Already with the inspector," Richard answered.

"I heard Katherine go out earlier."

"She has not come back yet. I do not think she was planning on returning until supper time." Richard shook his head. "I know that Katherine feels torn. She wishes to be with her cousins for the comfort of being with family and she wishes to be here when," Richard found he could not say the actual words, "news reaches us. It is a difficult position for a child of sixteen to find herself in. I admire her, greatly, for how she is reacting."

"She is a remarkable young woman," Raoul agreed. "What of Leonie and Therese?"

Richard actually managed a small smile. "They took the children in to cheer Gustave's sick room. I fear it will only tire him out."

"I am sure that is what they had planned."

"It is," Richard said as he opened the door to the library, stepping aside to let his father enter first.

"Monsieur le Vicomte," Inspector Berube said as he extended his hand. "I understand that your son is on the mend."

Raoul nodded and watched as Richard joined Jean-Paul in standing next to the empty fireplace.

"I am glad of that," the inspector said.

"You bring news?" Raoul wondered.

"I do," the inspector replied and took the seat that Raoul waved him towards. He waited until Raoul was also seated. "The search in Rouen and at Le Havre turned up nothing, I am afraid."

Richard laid a hand on his brother's shoulder as Jean-Paul laid his head against the mantle.

"Surely you did not come all this way to tell us that?" Raoul asked in an irritated tone.

"No, I did not," Inspector Berube assured him. "We have had word that a known miscreant named Henri Laurent has been found dead of a gunshot wound to the head. He had recently come into a tidy sum of money and was seen in some of our more questionable taverns with a young man who - it has been said - did not seem the type to belong in such a place."

His words caused Jean-Paul to lift his head. "You do not think ..."

"I already have men continuing to question Laurent's known associates," the inspector continued. "Laurent's body was found but a day's ride south of here. I have some of my finest men on their way to the country to search and question."

Raoul leaned back in his chair. "Please," he whispered softly. "Oh dear God, please."

The inspector stood. "I must go for I wish to be there for the questioning of some of these men."

"Let me go with you," Jean-Paul blurted out.

"What?" Richard exclaimed.

"I can help. She is my sister and I would know if one of them said something about her. I know personal things that they do not."

"No," his father told him.

"But ..." Jean-Paul began.

"Let him go, Raoul," Christine said as she entered the room. She gave the inspector a brief smile as he rose upon her entry before turning to her husband. "Someone must begin to find the missing pieces," she told him softly. "Let your son help."

"Thank you, Madame la Comtesse," Inspector Berube told Christine. "It is a fine idea your son had and I know he can be of help. He may, indeed, hear a word that means nothing to us but would of great significance to your family."

"And I am expected to stay here and wait?" Richard wondered indignantly. "I need to do something or I shall go out of mind!" He looked at his parents. "Let me help them find Annalise. Gustave is healing and I truly believe I can be of more assistance out there than in here."

"It is a large area in which we must search," the inspector reminded them.

"It does not matter! It is my sister who is missing!" Richard reminded him.

"Richard," Raoul gently admonished his son as he stood. "We know that, Inspector," he addressed the man in front of him, "but you have given us the first hope we have had in four days. Do not think that we will not cling to this."

"I would not dare to presume otherwise."

Raoul looked at Christine before turning to look at his sons, both of whom were fidgeting like small children. "Go," he told them.

"Gentlemen," Inspector Berube addressed Jean-Paul and Richard, nodding towards the door. He shook the hand that Raoul extended and bowed slightly towards Christine. "We shall have a care for your children and return all of them to you."

Christine nodded and accepted the hugs from her sons, a tight smile on her face, unable to speak, not trusting her voice.

"If you have wives, you may wish to speak to them," the inspector was saying as the door closed behind them.

"Do not even think it, Raoul," Christine said softly, watching as her husband looked longingly at the closed door. "I need you here with me."

"I need to be doing something, as well," Raoul replied.

Christine sighed. "The last time you went chasing after a lost female, your arm was slashed clear to the bone, you nearly drowned and you were strangled.

"It is not the same as you and I," he told her.

"No, it is not," Christine agreed. "This time our son was to have been the murdered man."

Raoul did not have an answer for her.

"It is taking every bit of strength and control I have to let Jean-Paul and Richard leave at this moment," Christine said in a voice barely above a whisper. "If you were to go, too, I fear what you might find upon your return." She wrapped an arm about Raoul's waist. "We may not be the same as we were four days ago but you are still my rock and my strength. Do not leave me to face this alone."

"I will stay as long as you need me," Raoul told her.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Summary: Andrew is a reluctant "guest" of The Phantom. Each man is taught by the other and a grudging respect begins to grow between them. Tomas returns with good – but disturbing – news.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Andrew was bent over, his hands resting on his knees, trying to catch his breath, feeling the blood pound at his temples. His eyes were closed and he was thinking how very much he wanted to throttle that damn bastard leaning against the wall, smirking at him. It has been four full days since he had barged through the front door of the ruined monastery, five days since he had seen his friend shot and the woman he loved had disappeared into an encroaching night. It has been four full days of relearning the sword of his youth when Andrew would have much preferred a gun. Four full days of showing that arrogant scoundrel that a boy raised on a working farm knew perfectly well how to throw a lasso. Four full days of being beaten and thrashed at every lesson by a man who gave no quarter and expected none in return. Four full days in which thoughts and fears for Annalise struggled for supremacy in his mind with thoughts of how he would love to - very slowly - kill the man known as The Phantom.

"I think that is enough for today," Erik said as he moved away from the wall, hand on his cane.

"Enough," Andrew said softly. "Enough?" He stilled his emotions as he raised his head, slowly straightening his back.

Erik raised an eyebrow at him.

Andrew took note of the man's facial expression as he approached him. "You think that is enough?" Andrew wondered, his tone measured, without emotion. "I have been here four days. Four days. I have submitted to your every insipid request. I have endured every punishment for every lesson you thought I failed. All the while I have been wasting precious time and God only knows what Annalise has had to endure. And you think it is enough?" Andrew was within steps of Erik. "I shall tell you when it is enough!"

Without warning, Andrew's hand grabbed the cane, ripping it from Erik's grasp. He slammed Erik against the wall, pinning the cane across his throat. The two men stared into each other's eyes, burning anger and mocking amusement. Andrew breathed hard through his nose, coherent thought a thing he was unable to find. There was no struggle by the man beneath his hands and Andrew found his anger and fear and frustration melting away. He dropped the cane, turning his back to Erik.

"Now it is enough," Andrew said as he walked away and into the monastery, ignoring the soft laughter coming from Erik and collapsing on a chair in the entry hall, head in his hands, fingers in his hair.

"Do you think I do this for my amusement?" The question was asked. "Or your pain?"

"I do not know and I do not care," Andrew's muffled answer came.

"Then why do you not leave? I have had some experience in holding human beings against their will and I do not believe you fall into that category."

Andrew raised his head. "And where would I go? You have made it abundantly clear that I have no idea what I am doing. So here I wait for your ... Tomas ... to return with some little scrap of something that will allow us to swoop in like a conquering horde and save the woman I love. All the while, I feel like I am eating myself alive. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I cannot feel. I cannot do anything but hope that my friend is alive. And when I find I can think it is of Annalise and those thoughts frighten me beyond whatever little reason I have left. So, again, I ask - where would I go?"

"How old are you?" Erik wondered.

"What?"

"It is a simple question. Why do you answer it with another?"

"I became twenty-one this February." Andrew looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Always the questions from the young," Erik said softly as he stayed in the shadows that played along one wall. "Because it has occurred to me that history or Fate or God or whatever it is that others consider in control of our lives has a deliciously cruel sense of humor."

"You are insane."

"So you have said. Use that brain you possess and try to find another adjective." Erik sighed. "It will not have occurred to you for you did not grow up in this country and did not hear the stories about the Opera Ghost meant to frighten a child but I am sure it is not escaped the thoughts of Annalise's parents." Erik moved from the shadows and moved towards where Andrew was seated. "Annalise is the same age as her mother and you but a year younger than the Vicomte when these same things happened to them." Erik took the seat next to Andrew. "When I did these same things to them. Perhaps your God is not as merciful as you are led to believe and this is His way of punishing me for my arrogance in thinking that I could ever be a part of my Angel's life - no matter how far from that life I may have been."

Andrew shook his head in disbelief. "You are arrogant if you think this is some kind of punishment upon you. You had nothing to do with this."

"Ah! He does possess a brain." Erik leaned back into his chair, closing his eyes, sighing. "But your words do little to lessen the dismal thoughts of an old man who has had many years upon which to ponder his past mistakes."

"Oh wonderful," Andrew replied. "You work me to the quick so that I do not have the time or energy to dwell upon my thoughts but you still wallow in yours. Where is the mercy in that?"

Erik opened his eyes to look at the young man seated next to him. "And an admirable brain it is, too."

"Will you, please, get over the fact that I am not an imbecile?"

"There are walls around my life that I have been building since the first moment I drew breath. I do not easily let anyone in so you must understand why I take the tone I do with you."

Now it was Andrew's turn to look at Erik with a raised eyebrow. "You let Annalise in."

"Yes, I did. Long ago, I also let her mother in and all they have ever brought to me is heartache." There was a dangerous glow at the back of Erik's eyes. "Do not think to breach those walls as easily."

"I shall come and go through those walls, as I please," Andrew told him, a smirk on his face, "for I think that there is already a breach in them that you cannot fix." He grew more solemn. "She has done it to me, as well. I did not think to come to France to fall in love. I only wanted to spend a summer with a friend, enjoying a new country, bringing my sister out of her shell. I never meant to fall in love but Annalise has a way of making you love her without even realizing that it has happened."

"It would seem to be a familial trait."

"You should be thankful you can feel your heart ache for it means you are alive," Andrew told him softly as he buried his head in his hands again. "It is the only thing at the moment that lets me know I am."

"Out of the mouths of babes," Erik muttered under his breath.

They sat in silence for what seemed like an interminable period of time, each lost in thoughts of a dark-haired woman who had taken their hearts, forever changing their lives. Both of them looked up at the sound of the front door opening, Tomas walking through. Erik and Andrew rose to their feet simultaneously, Erik placing a hand on Andrew's chest to prevent him from accosting an obviously tired Tomas.

"Give the man a moment," Erik warned Andrew.

_"Merci, monsieur,"_ Tomas said as he walked across the foyer, and into the room Erik used as his study. Tomas sat down on a worn loveseat, closing his eyes, catching his breath. Erik and Andrew followed him, Erik closing the door behind them, Andrew, fists balled at his sides, trying to remember that patience was, indeed, a virtue. Erik noticed the fists, the rapidly raising chest and reached out for Andrew, getting his attention. He motioned the young man towards the window seat. Andrew nodded and reluctantly went to perch on its edge.

"Is there anything you need, my friend," Erik asked.

Tomas shook his head, keeping his eyes closed for another moment before opening them. "I know where Mademoiselle is being kept," he said simply.

Andrew rose to his feet.

"Sit down!" Erik ordered before turning his attention back to Tomas. "So she is alive?"

Tomas nodded his head.

"Thank God," Andrew breathed.

"What have you learned," Erik wanted to know.

"I did not know much and did not know where to even begin so I began to ask in the camps that are hidden in the woods," Tomas started. "I knew I would be able to learn something from the men and women there before I started towards Paris. There was a mention of a man who was found murdered along the road that leads into Paris."

"Who was this man?" Andrew asked softly, hoping almost against hope that his worst thought would not be proven true.

"A man of my acquaintance, Henri Laurent, a scoundrel and a pickpocket of little note but honest as such men ever are."

Erik watched as Andrew heaved a sigh of relief and shared that same relief; at least, it was not Christine's son found dead alongside the road and that meant there was still a chance the boy lived. "What more of this Laurent?"

"I went to Paris to inquire in the taverns and inns where the people of my youth ... ," Tomas paused. "I nearly forgot in my haste to bring news. The young man, Monsieur de Chagny, he lives and the papers say he is expected to make a full recovery."

"Christine," Erik breathed and noticed that Andrew sagged against the window casement. "Thank you for that Tomas; you have lifted a great weight from us both; but what of Laurent?"

Tomas nodded his head. "It is said that there was a young man of a class not normally found in such places seeking out information from people who worked at the opera house the same time you were there." He watched as a dark look crossed Erik's face. "He found his answers as he was willing to pay good money for them. He also hired Laurent as a coach driver for several hundred francs. Those that heard said Laurent was bragging about how easy it was to earn such a sum just for driving a coach into the country. It was not easy to get such knowledge as the police were questioning everyone; most of my old friends were going to ground, waiting till the whole thing passed over."

"You have done remarkably well considering the circumstances you were working under," Erik assured him. "Now, where is Mademoiselle?"

"I came heading back this way, knowing where Laurent was found dead. I found a group of gypsies," Tomas waited for a reaction from Erik, knowing his past, and only saw Erik close his eyes, a hard look passing his face. "There were old comrades I knew from awhile back with the gypsies. They told me of a place they thought was haunted. It was an old house, long abandoned but now they said the ghost lights danced in the windows. They spit and crossed themselves when I asked where this place was but they told me. It was not easy to find but I know where it is and I can take you there."

"And you saw her?" Andrew asked. "You saw Annalise?"

Tomas looked uncomfortable.

"What is it?" Erik wanted to know. "You can say anything to me, Tomas."

Tomas kept his eyes downcast, hands playing nervously with each other. "I found the place two nights ago; it was the night it rained so badly. I could see the lights in the house and I thought about going to see what I could do when the back door opened. There was a man and he carried a young girl over his shoulders. I remembered what you said she looked like and knew it had to be her. She did not look well and ..."

"Anything, Tomas," Erik reminded him, gently.

"And he tied her to a tree and left her in the rain."

Andrew rose to his feet. "I'll kill him!"

"If you take another step," Erik told him, "you will not live long enough to kill anyone. Do I make myself clear?"

"I could not do anything!" Tomas insisted. "He stood in the doorway and just watched and waited. I did not dare try anything for he had a look of madness about him and I knew the only thing that would be of any help would be to bring you the news of what I had learned."

Erik crossed the room to sit by his friend. "You did the right thing, Tomas. It was far better to come back to let us know where Mademoiselle is then to have risked your life, leaving us with nothing."

"Thank you, Tomas," Andrew added.

Tomas nodded his head sadly. "I wished I could have done more. I only wished I could have done more."

"It will be alright," Erik insisted.

"I did go back to my friends at the gypsy camp. They agreed to watch the house and follow if he leaves and takes Mademoiselle with him and to let us know."

Erik laid a hand on Tomas' arm. "Very well done, my friend. Now, what can you tell us about the layout of this place and how best to approach it." He stood. "You will talk and I will draw." He looked at Andrew. "And you will listen." Erik walked across the room, pulling out a piece of paper and a charcoal pencil.

The next thirty minutes were spent listening to the sound of the pencil as it scratched across the paper to the words that Tomas spoke. Erik listened carefully, diagramming the layout of the house, the woods, the approach. He worked in deep concentration, unaware of the two men standing over his shoulder, only hearing the spoken words, the corrections to what he had drawn. When he finally finished, there was a very detailed sketch resting on the desk in front of him.

"Now what?" Andrew wanted to know.

Erik pointed at the front and back of the house. "We will need to come in from both points of entry if we are to have any hope of gaining access to the second floor." He turned to look over his shoulder. "Tomas are you sure that Mademoiselle is on the second floor?"

Tomas pointed at a box representing a window. "That is where the lights always are and it is where I saw the shadows moving."

"Then that is where she must be," Erik agreed.

"We cannot approach from the main entry here," Andrew pointed at the access road, "for there is no cover up to the front door. We can begin at the intersection with the main road but we will have to work our way up through the wooded areas, one of us towards the front and one towards the back."

"Once again you prove you are not an imbecile," Erik said with a small smile. "It is a good thought." His expression hardened. "Any man who would shoot two men, killing one and leave a young girl bound and in the rain is to be considered dangerous. We do not want to give him any inkling that we are coming, thusly, giving him a chance to do something to Annalise before we can reach her." He turned to look at Andrew. "Do you have any knowledge of how to pick a lock?"

Andrew shook his head, his lips a taut line.

"Very well, you shall have to take Tomas with you." Erik looked at Tomas. "Can you break the lock on the front door, if necessary, without too much noise?"

"I have done such before; it would not be hard to do so again."

Erik tapped the pencil against the paper. "Andrew is correct, silence is of the utmost import. We must approach the house and gain entry as quietly as possible. Any noise out of the ordinary may give us away and that could prove deadly for Annalise."

"But we do not know what the inside of the house looks like!" Andrew reminded the other two.

"If it is like other country homes, there will be a narrow stairway here," Erik pointed just inside the front of the house, near to the door. "It will go straight up with a slight curve before it reaches the second floor. That is where you will go but you must be on your guard. Old houses creak and groan and that is our worst enemy for it shall let him know that he is no longer alone. Once you are inside you must move and move quickly."

"What of you?" Tomas asked.

"I shall come through the back. No matter how small the country house there is always a servant's staircase." Erik chuckled. "How appropriate." He grew serious. "Having two flanks covered should ensure that he is occupied with only one and it matters little which. Either way, one of us will get to Annalise and get her out of that god-forsaken place."

"God?" Andrew wondered softly.

Erik chose to ignore him. "Tomas, do you think you can find a way to get us a very fast, very light chaise and a pair of horses strong and spirited enough to run full out for as long as possible? And can you do it within the next day?"

"A few hours rest and I shall get what you request."

"Good. Now how far is this place from where we are now?"

"Four or five hours at a good gallop."

"Then we shall start tomorrow afternoon." Erik felt, rather than saw, the change of body position in Andrew. He turned to look at the young man. "I know that it is difficult for you to wait for what seems like further wasted hours but if we do not do this properly, any one of us may die in the trying. I think you know if that should happen, Annalise may not stand a chance of surviving, either."

"I would rather I die than she does," Andrew told him. "I will wait."

"Then it is decided," Erik said with a quiet force that seemed to fill the whole room. "We go tomorrow afternoon."

_"Stay strong until then, my angels,"_ he thought._ "Stay strong."_


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Summary: As Gustave's health continues to improve, Jean-Paul and Richard return from the search for their sister bearing disturbing news.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

"Just hold onto me," Raoul told his son as he helped Gustave to cross the parlor towards a chaise. "A few more steps and then you can rest."

"If I did not hold onto you, I believe I would be on the floor holding onto the carpet," Gustave replied as he gripped his father's arm. He was smiling but his voice quivered. "I never realized that just coming down the stairs could be so difficult."

Raoul walked his son the last few steps and helped him to sit on the end of the chaise. He took note of the pale skin, the sweat beading on Gustave's forehead. "I think that is enough for the moment."

Gustave managed to nod as he started to move further onto the long chaise. He let out a small cry as he tried to push off with his right arm. He felt his father reach underneath his arms, moving him gently up towards the top of the chaise, settling a light throw about his legs. "Thank you," Gustave told him, heaving a sigh of relief as he settled back against the cushioned velvet. "You are a damn fine nurse."

"You are welcome and I pray you do not repeat those words outside this room," Raoul said as he took a seat next to the chaise. "At least it makes me feel as if I am being of some use."

"You, too, sir?"

Raoul nodded. "It is very hard to just stay here and wait when I would prefer to be doing something." He grew stern. "I am not a man who is used to leaving Fate in the hands of others."

"Sir ..."

"Do not fret yourself for I am not about to do anything foolish," Raoul assured his son. "You mother needs me here and I have promised her that I will not leave." He sighed. "Yet staying here means staying still. When you are still, there is time to think and thinking brings with it waking nightmares. It is the nightmares I fear most of all."

"I should have done more," Gustave said.

"You did more than enough. Your part was played and played well. Now we must trust your sister's life to the hands of others."

"That is the hardest part," Gustave replied. "I trust my brothers and I trust Andrew but what do we know of the gendarmes? Five days is too long of a time without some kind of word! What are they doing? They know who has her! They know where to ask questions! Why can they not find her?" He grimaced as a sharp pain raced through his chest.

Raoul laid a hand on his son's arm. "You will do no one any good if you agitate yourself back to your sick bed." He waited. "Yes?" He managed a brief smile at his son's nod. "Good. Now, I want you to know - truly know - that everything that can be done is being done to find your sister." Raoul wondered who it was that he was reassuring, his son or himself. "Inspector Berube is a good man who has a large area in which he must search. I am sure he is using every resource at his disposal."

"Including my brothers," Gustave replied, a dejected look crossing his face.

"Do not begrudge your brothers their ability to aid in the search; Annalise is their sister, as well."

"I am not. It is just ... just ... I am not used to feeling so damn useless!" Gustave looked to his father. "Is this how it was for you? That night you watched as that man took Maman?"

Original nightmares. Original regrets. Original guilt. Original sin. How easy it was to reopen wounds that had never fully closed; wounds that now festered and bled, destroying every happiness in their path. The words of that night rang loud and clear in Raoul's head like the beginning of a bizarre requiem: _"make her pay for the sins which are yours."_ Raoul closed his eyes, shaking his head. "And worse," he replied. "I had the certainty of untested youth on my side before that night. I had the blissful ignorance of thinking that everything in life is written in black and white, true and false, good and evil. Maturity and hindsight have since shown me what a fool I was during those moments, making your injury and the disappearance of your sister and your friend all that much harder for me to bear." He thought of his daughter's sketchbook. "Not everything in this world can be categorized into such simple truths. There are many shades of gray in-between universal opposites. Be thankful you have not yet learned that lesson - it makes the fears and nightmares all that much more terrifying to suffer."

What Gustave might or might not have replied was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the parlor door. Both men looked up as Therese stuck her head in the door.

"Are you ready?" she wondered.

A moment of happiness crossed Raoul's face as he nodded.

"One moment then," Therese said as she disappeared back behind the closed door.

"What is going on?" Gustave wondered.

He did not need to wonder too long as the door reopened.

"I am really not in the mood for games," his mother was saying, her eyes gently covered by the hands of Leonie.

"Then see the surprise for yourself," Leonie said as she removed her hands.

"Oh my," Christine breathed as she noticed her son sitting across the room from her. She crossed quickly and took Gustave gently in her arms, careful of his wound, kissing him lightly.

"I am fine, Maman."

"I know, I know," Christine whispered, almost to herself. "I had just not thought to see you from your sickbed so quickly."

"I could not stay there forever."

"But how did you manage to get down the stairs?" She turned to look at her husband, knowledge dawning on her face. "Thank you," Christine mouthed.

Raoul found he could only nod; his heart close to breaking as he saw a look in his wife's eyes that he thought was gone forever. Broken their relationship may have been but perhaps it was not as irretrievably broken as he had thought. It was a happy thought and a thought to which Raoul clung.

Gustave saw the look that passed between his parents and wondered what had been happening while he had been behind closed doors. He did not think he could have borne any further loss in his life so he retreated behind the illusion that all was as it had always been with his parents. He found he was not yet ready for the shades of gray that lay between the perfect shades of black and white. "I think I shall be here for the rest of the day for I do not think I can quite manage the stairs again," he told his mother.

Christine sat down gently by her son's legs, keeping hold of one of his hands. "Then we shall all stay here to cheer you." She sighed. "It has done my heart a world of good to see you up and away from your room."

Leonie and Therese had entwined arms and were smiling at each other. Both young women were very fond of the family in to which they had married and the events of the last several days had shaken the foundations of the lives they had been building for themselves. Their apprehension had heightened as their husbands left to join the search for their missing sister; comfort found only in the nursery from the softness and sweet smells of the innocence of their own small children.

"Do you hear that?" Leonie whispered to Therese.

"Just a servant opening a door," Therese whispered back.

"I do not think so," Leonie replied, letting go of her sister-n-law's arm and moving quietly to look out the parlor door. "Therese!" she whispered urgently, pulling on the other woman's arm.

Leonie gave a quick look at Raoul and Christine engaged in quiet conversation with their son before taking Therese out of the room, closing the door behind them.

"Oh my God," Therese exclaimed as she flung herself into her husband's arms, feeling them close about her.

"Richard," Leonie said as she mirrored the actions.

There was a moment of silence as each couple savored the familiar comfort of loving arms.

"I love you," Jean-Paul whispered in a strange voice causing Therese to pull back.

"What is it?" she wondered, studying his face. "What has happened?"

"Richard?" Leonie asked her husband, noting that he would not meet her eyes, feeling her heart sink. "What is wrong?"

"Where are Maman and Father?" Jean-Paul wanted to know.

"In the parlor with Gustave," Therese said. "What has happened?"

"Gustave is downstairs," Richard said to himself. "That is good for I do not think I could repeat this more than once. What of Katherine?"

"She will not be back till supper. You know she goes back to her cousins each day." Leonie looked at her husband with frightened eyes. "What is it?"

Richard gave his wife a quick kiss. "Once only," he told her as he turned to look at his brother. "Ready?"

"No," Jean-Paul said as he opened the parlor doors. He saw his parents look up at the sound of the door, his stomach turning at the look of hope on their faces, knowing the news he and his brother carried with them. He reached out for Therese's hand, trying to find the strength and courage for what he needed to say.

Raoul took note of the somber look on the faces of his oldest sons and his hand reached out for his wife's, finding it reaching for his own. "I can see it on your faces," he said, his world narrowing down to a small dark hole.

"What has happened to your sister?" Christine asked in a monotone.

"I think you both should have a seat," Richard said.

"Just tell us," Raoul insisted.

"Please, sir, it would be better if you were seated," Jean-Paul said, turning his face, unable to meet his parent's gazes.

Christine moved around the chaise to her husband's side. She sat down on the loveseat; Raoul joining her, their hands tightly entwined.

"Just say it!" Gustave managed to get out between clenched teeth, as he struggled to a sitting position.

"Henri Laurent's body was found at the edge of a wooded area on the road to Clamency. What Inspector Berube was able to glean from Laurent's associates led him to order the search begin in that place. We started working in a widening circle from the road," Jean-Paul began.

Christine wanted to get up and shake her son but fought down the urge, instead digging her fingernails into the palms of her husband's hands.

"A coach was found at the bottom of a hill off a small path that runs through the woods," Richard continued, glad for the feel of his wife holding to his arm. "It was in ruins, a horse dead of a broken neck. We found another horse grazing in the woods."

Raoul knew his wife's nails were digging half-moon cuts into his hands but found he could not feel the pain.

"I do not know how ..." Richard's voice broke and he looked to his older brother.

"There is no easy way to say this," Jean-Paul continued. "So I shall just say it." He drew a deep breath. "Clothing was found scattered around the area where the coach rested and the clothing had been torn at by animals. There was a blue linen skirt, a light blue silk blouse with embroidery on the sleeves and collar." He felt his wife bury her face in his shoulder, his arm reaching out to touch her in a vain hope of comfort. "The gendarmes also found a woman's underclothing." He found he could not continue.

Richard exhaled, telling the last of what had been found. "There was also a belt with a very distinct buckle," he reached into his pocket, pulling out a buckle encased in the detritus of a forest floor but which sparkled with the blue gleam of sapphires. "It is the one that was a gift to Annalise two Christmas's past."

The silence in the room was deafening.

"No," Christine said forcefully. "No."

"Christine," Raoul began, trying to find the strength to say the word he dreaded.

"No. She is not dead," Christine insisted, saying the word before her husband could. "I would know. She is my child." Her voice broke. "I would know. Raoul, I would know!" Christine collapsed into her husband's arms, the sobs shaking her thin frame.

Gustave had sat quietly, the numbness growing as his brothers told of what had been found in the woods. "It is not true," he said as he found himself getting to his feet, the color beginning to drain from his face.

"Gustave, you ought not ...," Richard said as he let go of his wife's hand, moving towards his brother.

"You tell me it is not true!" Gustave demanded, taking a few unsteady steps forward, his knees beginning to give out.

"Gustave!" Richard exclaimed. He was at his brother's side in a heartbeat, catching him before he could fall, guiding him back to the chaise, helping him to sit, a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me it is not true," Gustave pleaded with his brother as he grasped Richard's hand. "Dear God, please tell me it is not true!"

Richard looked at the desperate eyes that searched his face knowing they reflected his emotions. "I cannot," he replied in a broken voice. "I am sorry. I cannot." He moved his hand to the back of his brother's neck in a small measure of comfort as Gustave's head fell to his shoulder, the young man's shoulders beginning to shake.

Raoul looked up at his eldest child, "Did they ... did they find a ... your sister?" He could not say "body."

Jean-Paul placed a hand absent-mindedly on his wife's back as she hugged Leonie, both women quietly crying. "No, sir. We would not have come home but we did not want a stranger telling you this news. I wish ... I wish ..." he shook his sadly. "I wish we had brought different news."

"Did they find anything else? Did they find any sign of Andrew? Or of ..." Raoul found he could not say the name, "that man?"

Jean-Paul shook his head. "No. Just the carriage, the horses and Annalise's ... the clothes."

Christine withdrew herself from Raoul's embrace.

_"Ma mie?"_ he wondered as he placed a hand on her cheek, wiping at her tears with a gentle finger.

"I would know," she whispered only to him, the desperate conviction evident in her eyes. "I would know if Annalise were dead. Trust me on this Raoul, please!"

"With all my heart," Raoul whispered back, gratefully sinking in to the depths of her eyes, willing to grasp at any scrap of faith that his little girl still lived. "I need the strength of your belief."

"And I need yours," Christine said as she touched his cheek. "Thank you."

Christine nodded and drew back, taking a deep breath, turning to look at the two youngest sons. She felt another piece of her heart break away as she saw Richard kneeling on the floor, a hand gently kneading his brother's neck, their heads resting against each other. _"My little boys,"_ she thought as she stood, touching Gustave's back lightly. "You must not over exert yourself," she told him and directed her attention to Richard. "Help me to get him back into a resting position."

"I can do it myself," Gustave said stubbornly.

"And I am still your mother," Christine reminded him. "Please do as I say. Richard?"

Gustave allowed his mother and brother to help him get back on the chaise. He leaned back, wincing, finally feeling the pain that rippled across his chest. He opened his eyes as he felt a cool hand on his cheek; his mother gave him a small smile.

"Do not lose your faith," she told him.

"I shall try," Gustave told his mother. He closed his eyes again, shaking his head. "I shall try." He felt a kiss placed on his head.

Christine turned her attention to Richard, holding out her hand. "Richard?"

Richard handed over the belt buckle he still held, feeling his mother clasp his hand for a brief moment. He watched as she gently brushed away the encrusted dirt.

"This needs to be cleaned before you sister returns home. She will be very upset if she finds it in this condition."

Richard looked at his mother confusion on his face. He turned to look at his father and received a warning shake of the head.

Christine stood and walked over to Jean-Paul, reaching up to kiss her tall son. "Thank you for being strong enough to bring this news yourself. You have grown into a remarkable young man and I am very proud of you."

"I wanted so much to bring her home to you," Jean-Paul told his mother.

"I know, my babe, I know," Christine told him before walking to the closed door of the parlor. She paused there, her back to her family, her hand on the knob. "I will not hear one word about Annalise unless it is to say that she is alive and coming home to us. I cannot and will not allow thoughts to the contrary. The angels must never know that we harbor anything other than goodness and light towards your sister." Christine opened the door, leaving the room without a backward glance. She did not see the pained look that crossed Raoul's face as she mentioned "angels".

Christine closed the door behind herself, walking up the grand staircase and stopping at the door to her daughter's room. She paused for a moment, willing her shaking legs to go just a little bit further. She opened the door and walked across the room, falling to her knees at the side of the bed. She looked at the buckle she held in her hands, its image blurring through the tears.

"She is not dead," Christine kept repeating as she buried her head into the bed linens, sobbing out her fears. She felt completely alone in her guilt, unwilling and unable to let anyone else in for fear of what would happen to them. She had already destroyed one life and was now paying for that sin by destroying the lives of everyone else she had ever loved. Christine lifted her head and looked at the sketchbook that still remained open on the bed. Her fingers reached out for the sketch of Erik but Christine paused, drawing them back, returning her head to the soft bed coverings.

_"Please forgive me, my angel,"_ Christine thought. _"Please forgive me. Do not ask whatever dark gods you worship to make my daughter pay for my sins."_

The afternoon sky was surrendering to the deepening twilight before Christine rose to her feet, leaving her daughter's quiet room but taking the emptiness with her.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Summary: Michaud watches as Annalise begins to experience the symptoms of drug withdrawal. His physical and emotional abuse finally take their toll on Annalise and she breaks.

Warnings: Violence

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

She knew he was there. She knew he stood in the doorway, watching her as she shivered, huddled against the headboard of the bed that sat in the middle of the small room. She looked across at him; his arms were crossed and there was no emotion on his face.

"What have you done to me?" Annalise asked, her arms holding her stomach, her words coming out in small gasps. Underneath the cotton nightdress she wore, new bruises battled with old bruises for supremacy; Annalise did not know how they had gotten there but she could feel them. The marks around her wrists now had companions in the marks around her ankles. She was tired and hungry and could not think beyond the new pain that gripped her from deep within, tearing her in two.

"Do you not remember?" the empty nothingness said as it began to cross the room. "Do you not remember the warning about drugged wine? Do you not remember I said there would be pain? Do you not remember I promised you would crawl to me to relieve the pain?" The nothingness had reached her side, sitting down, reaching out to pull her close. "This is the pain. This is only the beginning of the pain."

Annalise closed her eyes, shaking her head. "No. That was only a dream! This is only a dream! I will wake up and you'll be gone and my guardian angel will be back."

"You stupid little girl," the nothingness said, its voice growing deeper, "that was the dream. He is the dream. This is your reality - you and I and this room." The voice chuckled. "And the pain."

"No," Annalise insisted. "I will wake up and you will gone and we will all laugh at my silly dreams."

The nothingness gripped Annalise's arms tighter, eliciting a small cry of pain. "Does that feel like a dream?"

"No," Annalise admitted as her chin began to tremble. She opened her eyes and looked into the face of the evil that she had prayed was only a dream. "But if you are not a dream ..." She looked around the room, "and all of this is real," she looked down at her bruised arms and cut wrists before raising her eyes, "then ... then ..." she bit back a scream.

"Scream," the evil hissed at her. "Go ahead and scream! There is no one to hear you. No one has been hearing your screams, your cries for help, your pleas for mercy for the last five days." The evil let her go, shoving her backwards. "I am even growing accustomed to them. They are like sweet music to my ears."

Music. Mother. The word and image cut through the darkness and confusion in Annalise's mind. "What do you know of music or sweetness?" She managed before another knife tore at her middle, causing her to double up in pain. "My guardian angel would understand sweetness."

"Your angel," the word was spat out, "wanted you for one reason and one reason only. Now even he does not want you. He has left and will never be coming back! I am all you have left little princess. You will have to turn to me because there is no one else. Your fine family has not even bothered to search for you for they would have surely found you by now. And I shot that perfect little boy who was riding so hard to your rescue. So you see there is no one ..."

The mention of her family and of Andrew, the images that had comforted her reality, her dreams, her confusion, stirred some nearly extinguished flame of spirit within Annalise and she threw herself at the nightmare sitting by her side, knocking them both to the floor. She beat at him weakly, broken fingernails raising ugly scratches on face and neck. "You lie! They love me!" she screamed.

The evil had not been prepared for the reaction of a girl lost in drug-induced illusions, nearly broken and stressed beyond her endurance. Precious moments were lost as the evil searched through its mind in an attempt to understand. It reached deeply into a clear corner of sanity, another wave of rage building as it gained knowledge and began to react to the girl's actions. The growl began deep in its chest, as the evil radiated outwards, crowding out even the nothingness that was its mate. The growl and the evil took over limbs and consciousness, shaking every fiber of the inhabited body, wrapping it in a red haze beyond which nothing existed.

Annalise tumbled off of Michaud as a fist connected with her jaw. A small part of her mind begged her to stay still but it could not find its way through the misery and chaos that controlled the rest of her mind. Annalise struggled to her hands and knees, only to feel herself being flipped over and tossed onto her back. One hand was holding onto her wrists and another was encircling her throat and there was a voice next to her ear.

"No one loves you but me," it whispered to her.

"You lie!" Annalise shrieked, instinct taking over as she kicked out, a knee connecting with his stomach, knocking the air out of him, dropping him to her side. Annalise scrambled across the floor towards the closet, grabbing onto the handle, slowly raising herself to her feet. "My family loves me!"

"Then why are you still here?" the evil managed to get out.

Strength induced by the surge of anger was quickly fading and Annalise slid down the closet door. She let go of the handle, looking up at Michaud with what little strength and anger she had left. "Because you will not let me go," she said between clenched teeth as another sharp pain tore her in half.

"You can go," the evil told her as it stood up. "I will not hold you. Consider, though, where you would go." He walked over, stopping just short of where Annalise sat on the floor, doubled over and trying to find a way out from the pain that filled her entire being. "You have been here nearly five days." He leaned over so he could whisper. "Five days alone with a man to whom you are not wedded. That, in and of itself, will cause polite society to turn their backs on you. And when the world sees the pathetic little wretch the drugs have turned you into, there truly will be no one who will want you. Not your friends. Not your family." A smile grew on his face. "And certainly not your precious Andrew." He grabbed Annalise's chin, raising her head, forcing her to look at him. "You loved him and you did not even know and now you have lost him forever. You are damaged goods, little princess, and he will not want another man's castoff."

A spark of anger still burned deep within the part of Annalise that was able to rationalize and see things for what they were. It kept a shaky control on her actions, refusing to let her give up and give in. "You have destroyed whatever I might have had with Andrew and you destroyed whatever I might have had with you."

"You never had anything with me!"

"Because you never gave me a chance!" Annalise cried. "You never let me find out what it was I wanted!"

"I could see what you wanted!"

"I did not know what I wanted and you did not trust me enough to know my own mind!"

"Mind?" The evil wanted to know. "Mind? You no longer have a mind. You no longer even have a soul. They belong to me. You belong to me." He kept hold of Annalise's chin as he lifted her to her feet. "You. Do. Not. Exist." He told her, emphasizing the words. "Whatever you are is what I have made you. There is no past and no future; there is only me. Do you understand?"

Annalise managed to nod her head.

The evil pinched her chin, sending pain flaring through her sore jaw. "I did not hear an answer."

"Yes!" Annalise shouted and broke down into sobs. "Are you happy now? Yes!"

The evil slowly began to fade into the nothingness. "For the moment," it replied, taking Annalise by the hand and half-dragging, half-leading her back to the bed. "You will sit."

Annalise did as she was told, watching as the nothingness looked at her with that empty stare before walking out the door, the click of the lock punctuating his departure. Only then did the remaining small rational part of her mind surrender control, allowing Annalise to break down completely. She buried her face in a pillow and let out a keening wail that the goose down barely muffled. Her knees involuntarily rose towards her chest as another tentacle of pain wrapped itself around her middle, causing her to catch her breath, stopping the sobs. Annalise rode the pain out, finding she was finally able to draw a breath. She kept hold of the pillow she gripped so tightly and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

"It is not a dream," she whispered sadly. "Oh God, it is not a dream!" She was quiet for a moment as the tears began again, rolling down her cheeks, dampening the rat's nest that her hair had become. "I want to go home, please; I just want to go home."

_"No one will want you,"_ the words bounced off the walls of the room and the walls of Annalise's tired, stressed and confused mind. _"No one will want you."_

"I cannot go home," Annalise whispered, unsure if it was the thought that caused her to shiver, the cold she found she could not shake or the blackness that was beginning to replace her soul. "I can never go home. They won't want me after this." She choked on her sobs, deep coughs shaking her body. "No one will want me after this."

A familiar voice floated through the tangled corridors of her memories. _"Listen to your head and follow your heart."_

Annalise rolled onto her side. "I did not listen to my head and now it is all gone." She closed her eyes. "It is all gone." She laid still for a moment, fighting against the pain that gripped every joint and muscle, the shivers that played a strange counterpoint to the pain and the heartache and agonizing realization that had nothing do with any physical pain. "They are all gone. I'll never see them again." Images of family and friends danced in the world behind Annalise's closed eyelids as tears of goodbye traced down her cheeks. "God," she prayed softly, "don't let them forget me. Tell my brothers how much I loved them. Kiss my parents for me."

_"You will never know how sorry I am,"_ Annalise heard her father say.

Another pain grabbed at her from deep inside. "Andrew ..." she gasped as she breathed rapidly and shallowly, trying to find a way through the pain.

_"I wanted to marry you."_ Memories and words became jumbled and tossed in the rooms of Annalise's memory.

"Let him be happy," Annalise managed as the pain once again receded. "Please let him be happy."

_"What choice did I have?"_ Christine's voice called out to her daughter. _"I had no choice."_

"No choice," Annalise whispered. "No choice." She opened her eyes and managed to get herself into a sitting position. She drew a deep breath as the room began to shake and spin but Annalise refused to look away from it. She allowed herself to be drawn in the swirling vortex, watching as her old life with its memories of family and friends and endless possibilities was swept into a dark whirlpool where it disappeared forever. The spinning and swirling stopped as her life vanished and it was a different Annalise who shakily stood up from the bed. The nothingness that had been her tormentor, who had brought the evil and chased away her guardian angel was now a part of her, filling her, consuming her. There was no fear, no loss, no heartache.

There was simply nothing.

Nothing beyond the locked door of her nightmare reality. Nothing beyond the tips of the fingers she could no longer feel. Nothing beyond the pain. Nothing beyond the very breath she was taking.

There was nothing.

The door clicked open and Annalise turned empty eyes towards the sound, smiling vacantly at the nothingness that walked through. "What took you so long?" she asked softly as she crossed the room, hand extended for the wine glass.

"What are you doing?" the nothingness wanted to know as the wine glass was grabbed from its hand.

Annalise swallowed the drugged wine in one breath, throwing the glass against the far wall where it lay it shatters next to its broken mate from three days ago. "I made my choice," Annalise said without emotion as she felt a familiar warmth begin in her stomach. She smiled at the nothingness that was disappearing. "I made my choice."

"What are you talking about?" Michaud wanted to know as he stared at the stranger in front of him.

Annalise reached up to hold his face in her hands, "You sent those gifts. You must know the story of the woman who bore me. You know she had a choice to make. She gave up the passion in her life and for what? A safe life with a safe man?" Annalise felt the nothingness lift her up and set her free. "I do not want that. I want what you promised." She reached in and kissed Michaud softly. Once. Twice. The third kiss was hard and long. "I want the passion you promised would be mine." Annalise stood on tiptoe to breathe into her angel's ear. "I want you."

Michaud drew back, horror and confusion written across his face. "Not like this! You do not know what you are saying!"

Annalise laughed, a strange hollow sound, and twirled around, falling to the floor. She held on to Michaud's ankles as she felt herself begin to float away. "I will crawl to you, if that is what you desire; but I cannot do that if you fly away, dear angel. So you surely will not mind if I hold you tightly." She laughed again. "All angels should walk the earth enjoying the company of mortals. Did the ancient gods not do as much?"

Michaud took a step back, shaking himself free of Annalise's grip. "What has happened to you?"

"The woman who gave me birth let her angel fly away. I do not intend to let my angel get away that easily!"

Michaud bent over and gently lifted a giggling Annalise to her feet. "You mean your mother."

The giggles and the smile disappeared. "I have no family," she insisted. "There is only you. There is only me. There is only us." Annalise reached in and kissed him again. "Is that not what you desired?"

"Yes," Michaud replied. "No. Yes." He shook his head. "I need time to think."

"Oh my angel," Annalise breathed, "am I that frightening?" A deep cough shook her body.

"You need to rest," Michaud replied, leading her to the bed.

Annalise followed meekly, allowing Michaud to sit her on the bed, helping her curl under the light summer blanket. She reached up trembling arms, clasping them about his neck, drawing him down to her level. "Do you not wish to stay with me, my angel? Do you not wish to guard me from the others?"

The neck and shoulder muscles beneath Annalise's hands grew taut. Michaud forcefully broke away from her embrace. "It will be on my time and on my terms!" the angry stranger told her as he came back.

Annalise raised herself onto her elbows, barely able to stay steady. Her head fell limply to her shoulder. "And I shall be waiting." Her eyes began to close. "Just do not keep me waiting too long," Annalise told him as she blissfully walked into the waiting arms of the darkness, slumping back onto the pillows, lost for a few more hours in a drug-induced sleep.

The angry stranger walked over and sat on the bed next to Annalise. His hand reached out to touch her cheek, trailing over to trace the outline of her lips, running down the straight lines of her neck.

"No!" Michaud broke through the red haze that always accompanied the angry stranger he could not control. "I will not let you do this!" He stood, trembling and leaned over the sleeping girl on the bed. He brushed matted curls from her forehead and leaned in to kiss her. "I do not know how much longer I can keep them at bay," he whispered. "Please forgive me." He turned from Annalise, the trembling in his body visible and powerful, and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him.


	30. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Summary: Raoul and Katherine meet unexpectedly in the gardens and two reserved people try to find a comfortable way to share their fears and emotions. Tomas turns to an surprising person to get the horses and carriage for which Erik asked.

CHAPTER THIRTY

She had tossed and turned the entire night. She would drift off to sleep only to find that within minutes she was awake again, haunted by nightmares she could not control. She would turn over and try to drift away again with the same results, nightmares that kept sleep at bay. She wanted to cry aloud but did not for fear of disturbing the others. Perhaps it would have been easier had it been her own bed in her own home but even that was beyond her reach. So she rolled from side to side, allowing sleep to claim her for a few brief moments, allowing the nightmares to come, allowing silent tears to fall. She watched as the night faded into morning, finally rising on unsteady feet, to dress quickly and disappear into the humid, dew-speckled gardens. She was searching for a quiet corner in which to cry aloud, a place where no one would hear her sorrow.

She found her quiet spot on a small bench underneath a tall tree. The bench was hidden from the house by the large trunk of the tree and guarded from the heavens by the thick, leafy canopy. She sat down on the small bench, looking at the empty hands held open in her lap. Her eyes began to mist over and she felt the cries growing in her chest. She raised her hands to cover her mouth and screamed. She screamed into hands that muffled the sound until the screams were silent and then she let the tears flow. She did not know how long she had screamed and cried but when she finished she felt cleansed. Still hollow, still frightened but cleansed. She raised trembling fingers to wipe away the tears and stood, closing her eyes as she composed herself, turning around and running into a huge wall.

"Oh my," Katherine squeaked out as she opened her eyes and saw the equally startled father of her friends.

Raoul took a step backwards. "I am sorry. I was looking down and did not see you. Pray, forgive me, mademoiselle."

Katherine lowered her eyes and clasped her hands in front of her. "It is my fault, sir, I should have been thinking of my actions and watching where I was going," she said in a quiet voice.

It broke Raoul's heart. "Katherine," he said as he reached out to lay a hand over hers, "would you sit with me for a moment."

Katherine kept her eyes focused on her toes and nodded. "If you please," she replied allowing Raoul to lead her back to the bench. She sat next to him and noted that Raoul kept hold of her hand.

"It is very early to be outside," Raoul said

"I know."

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"When Annalise was small," Raoul began, "she would be up early, like you and she would come skipping down the stairs to find her mother and I in the dining room. She would pester and annoy - in that sweet way that she had," Raoul paused, shaking his head, correcting himself, "has - until I would agree to walk her to the stables for a morning's ride on her pony. I would hold the reins and walk her and the pony around these gardens telling those silly stories that little girls love until she would complain that she was hungry. We would then go into breakfast and she would begin the chatter that would last all day."

"She does like to talk," Katherine agreed quietly.

"She always loved to be outside where there were no constraints on her spirit." Raoul shook his head sadly, seeming to forget that there was another human being seated with him. "Perhaps if we had raised our children differently, given them more freedom, none of this would have happened. Perhaps if I had done things differently ..."

"No," Katherine interrupted him. "I know that Annalise loves you and you must not think that she will not be coming home. You must not! If you believe that, then that means that I will need to start thinking that something has happened to Andrew and he will not be coming back. I do not think ... I will not ..." Katherine bit back the tears that were threatening.

"Again, I am sorry. I have asked for forgiveness more in the last six days than I have in my entire life." Raoul sighed. "I suddenly find myself a very old and very lonely man who only wants to see his little girl come skipping down the stairs once more."

"You are not as old as my parents and I do not believe your family would ever let you be lonely."

"The wisdom of youth." Raoul patted the hand he held. "You have been a comfort to Gustave and you have been a bright light in our darkness. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Katherine replied softly.

"If I may ask, why were you out here so early? I could not sleep and so came out here to find ..." Raoul shook his head. "I do not know what I thought to find."

Katherine thought for a long moment before answering, wrestling with her conscience. This man and his family had been so kind to her, taking her in and treating her like she was one of their own; she felt she owed him the truth. She rebelled against her normal rectitude, her affection for this family winning out. "I came out here to be by myself for I did not wish to disturb anyone."

Raoul was amazed. "I do not believe you could ever disturb anyone, Katherine."

"Please do not be upset with me," Katherine said as she turned her head away, "but I came out here to cry. I did not want to cry in my room for I did not know if the sound could be heard from the open windows. I had no wish to add to the anxiety your family is already suffering."

"My dear, are you sure you are only sixteen?"

Katherine nodded. "My parents married very late in life and I do not think they had expected another child after my brother was born. I was raised in a very strict household where I was expected to be the silent, dutiful daughter. I learned my lessons well." She sniffled and swallowed back the tears. "Andrew was my champion. He would never let me become too serious and was always doing things without our parents' knowledge. He would give me riding lessons and take me to museums and insist on sharing his schoolbooks with me. He always took all the blame and punishments, too." Katherine sighed. "When he went to England to study, I found myself going back to being the quiet child in the corner. I had lost my brother and my friend. I did my best to cause no trouble and I am afraid I became rather like a clam, all closed up and hiding. Andrew was the one who insisted on my visiting Europe." Katherine looked up at the sky. "I think he wanted me to stop being that frightened little clam. Andrew and Gustave were showing me how to do just that and Annalise was ... I so wanted to be like her - free and sure of myself. They were all helping me so much and now ... now ..." A tiny sob escaped. "I just wanted to find a quiet place to cry without bothering anyone." Katherine found herself being drawn into Raoul's embrace.

"I would never dream of taking your father's place but you can safely cry here," he said quietly.

Katherine felt the strong arms about her, their safety and security comforting her, allowing her to let go. She began to cry again, tears that Katherine thought she no longer possessed. She was not sure how long she stayed in Raoul's embrace, sobbing out her fears and anxieties but when she finally drew back, Katherine felt as if a bit of the despair that was holding onto her heart lifted. "Thank you," she told Raoul. "I really do not mean to be a bother."

"The last thing you could ever be is a bother," Raoul assured her. "You are gentle and kind and far more mature than your tender years would lead one to believe."

"Annalise said almost the same thing."

"Did she?" Raoul asked. He sat quietly for a moment. "I did not know she was so intuitive. I am finding there are a great many things about my daughter that I did not know. Now I wonder if I shall ever have the chance." Raoul turned his attention towards the gardens glowing in the summer morning. "I never realized just how much her spirit filled our lives."

"Are you sure you should be saying these things to me?" Katherine wondered.

"Perhaps not," Raoul replied, "but I find I miss having a young lady to sit with me and listen as I prattle on about everything and nothing." He turned to smile at Katherine. "It does my empty heart good."

Katherine managed a sweet but sad smile. "Then I promise to be that young lady but only until Andrew returns Annalise to your side."

"I shall hold you to that promise."

Raoul and Katherine sat together, wistfully quiet in the still summer morning. A million hopes and prayers hung like unfallen tears carried along on the light humid breeze that blew past. They swirled and danced by, moving on towards a promise that waited just beyond the horizon. They bowed the bright summer flowers in respectful homage to the One who waited above with open arms to receive them. They blew past the manicured grounds, past the cities, past the countryside, up past fluffy clouds, up past vision. They traveled beyond thought, beyond imagination. They whispered right into the ear of God.

"Did you feel that?" Katherine breathed in wonderment.

Raoul could only nod, afraid to speak aloud for fear of killing the speck of true belief that suddenly seemed to take root in his empty soul.

"Oh please," Katherine said as she bowed her head. When she raised her head she found her friend's father looking at her, his hand resting gently over hers.

"I am so very grateful that Annalise has you for her friend," Raoul told her as he leaned in and hugged Katherine. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair, drawing back to give her a weak smile. "What would you say to a cup of tea?"

"I think that would be lovely," Katherine sighed, allowing Raoul to hold her hands, and raise her to her feet. She took the proffered arm. "You'll not say anything?" she wondered. "I really do not wish to cause further trouble or distress."

"My dear, sweet child, this shall be our special memory and ours alone," Raoul assured her.

"Thank you," Katherine replied as she walked alongside Raoul through the gardens and back towards the house.

At that same moment, Tomas was also walking through gardens belonging to the de Chagny family. He had no concerns about being seen by anyone who lived in their country home for he was known and trusted. He was the one who looked in on Madame Adele to ensure that she had everything she needed. He was the one who brought her the lovely roses from her eccentric neighbor. Tomas had no fear as he moved past the house and towards the stables on the far side of the estate. He slipped easily into the building, moving past the horses who snorted as he walked by, quietly opening the door to the tack room, slipping in without notice. "Regine," he addressed the man who was bent over a saddle.

The man turned around, the astonished look on his face quickly replaced by one of irritation. "Tomas," he grumbled. "How many times do I have to tell you to knock first?"

Tomas closed the door behind him. "I did not mean to sneak in like a common thief .."

"You were never common," Regine, the estate steward, said with a snort.

"True enough," Tomas replied with a grin and then grew serious. "I need your help."

Regine cocked his head to one side.

"Are you aware of what has happened to Mademoiselle de Chagny?"

Regine looked shocked. "We know and have been instructed to keep it from Madame Adele. Her doctors do not think that her heart would take the news of what has befallen her great-niece. What do you know about it?"

"Andrew is with Erik," Tomas paused, trying to remember the social niceties. "I meant to say Monsieur Cameron is with Monsieur Lachaise at this very moment and we know where Mademoiselle is being kept."

It took but a moment for Regine to act. His face grew red and he began to twist the rag he held into a tight, possibly deadly weapon. He took two steps forward and stopped, his anger visible. "What? You know where Mademoiselle is and you have not told anyone? Do you have any idea what they are saying about the Vicomte and his wife?" He took another step forward. "Do you have any idea what this is doing to them and their family?" Another step. "And you have Monsieur Andrew hidden away in that black hole you call home with that strange man?" Another step. "And you have not returned Mademoiselle to her family?" The next step brought him face-to-face with Tomas. "Tell me why I should not wring your despicable neck?" Regine asked as he held the twisted rag in front of Tomas' eyes.

Tomas did not flinch or blink or betray any emotion. "Damn their manners," he muttered under his breath. Then more loudly, "Andrew came to our black hole of a home seeking help. His sister told him that Erik and Mademoiselle de Chagny were acquainted."

"Even if that were true," Regine spit out, "why would the young man think the two of you could help?" He snorted. "Not to mention that it is nice to know that the man who has taken you in actually has a name."

"There are things you do not know and I do not have the time to explain," Tomas explained, his patience growing thin, ignoring the last comment. "Are you going to put that thing down or shall I break your neck and do what I need to do without your help?"

Regine breathed heavily for a moment, his mouth set hard, his eyes glittering. Slowly he lowered the twisted rag he held. "Talk quickly before I change my mind."

"Andrew came through our door five mornings ago and told what happened. I was sent to discover what I could. I know where Mademoiselle is but I could do nothing at the time for if I had, she and I both might have been killed and what good would that have done?"

"None, I suppose," Regine admitted somewhat reluctantly.

"I returned last night and know that we know where Mademoiselle is, we are going to go after her. That is why we need your help."

Regine finally managed a strained smile and nodded. "You have it; there is nothing I would not do for this family. What do you need?"

"The new chaise and Diana and Mercury."

There was a stunned silence.

"Are you insane!" Regine blurted out. "Do you have any idea what you are asking? Those horses are valuable breeding stock! If anything happens to them ..."

Tomas interrupted him. "They are the fastest horse flesh within a day's ride. Erik wants to get Mademoiselle home as quickly as possible."

It took only a moment of thought for Regine to understand and accept the request. "I do not think an unknown driver will be able to get through the front gate of the main home, not now; and you would not be able to handle Diana and Mercury." Regine thought for a moment. "I shall come with you. I can drive the chaise and handle the horses. Plus I am known and trusted and would have no difficulty getting through the main gates. There is nothing I would like better than to aid in bringing Mademoiselle home."

Tomas nodded. "I think it is very wise." He gave a strange little laugh. "I do not think we had even thought of it." He gathered himself together. "Right. Mademoiselle is being held about five hours from here. We plan on leaving around three in the afternoon; be at the monastery shortly before then."

Regine extended his hand and Tomas clasped it warmly. "Count on me."

"Uh ..." Tomas started and stopped.

"What is it?" Regine wondered.

"What are they saying about the Vicomte and his wife?" Tomas asked, knowing that Erik would want to know.

"What is it you think they are saying? Their son was gravely wounded and their daughter has been missing for nigh on a week." Regine shook his head. "I do not approve of listening to gossip but I had the same question. I was told that there is a great silence at the house. They said that the Vicomte and his wife are so lost in their grief that they barely speak anymore. I hate to hear this. I truly hate to hear this. They are very good to all their retainers and I remember their children fondly." He fixed Tomas with an intense gaze. "I hope that is what you wanted to know."

"I was not asking out of mere curiosity," Tomas assured him. "I know that Andrew has been concerned." It was not the entire truth but Tomas had a benefactor to protect.

Regine ran a hand through salt and pepper hair. "Accept my apologies, Tomas. The news from Paris has been devastating and it is twice as hard as we try to keep it from Madame Adele." He pursed his lips and nodded his head. "I shall see you later this afternoon."

"Till then," Tomas said as he left as quietly as he had entered.


	31. Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Summary: Erik extracts a strange promise from Andrew as they prepare to rescue Annalise. The rational parts of Michaud and Annalise meet for a brief moment. As Michaud completely loses hold his true self, four men fly through a dark night on a mission based on love and compassion.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Andrew awoke with a start. The room was brightly lit and he focused on the clock that ticked away on the mantle - one o'clock. Andrew placed an arm over his eyes, sighing and shaking his head. It was one in the afternoon. A thought slowly grew in his mind and Andrew snorted in disbelief - that arrogant bastard had slipped him something to make him sleep. What the hell was he thinking? As Andrew slowly sat up, running his hands over his face, wiping away the last of the sleep, the answer dawned on him - he had been made to sleep so that he would be rested and ready to go in but a few hours.

Somewhere deep inside, Andrew gave thanks for the gesture for it had been the quietest sleep he had experienced in nearly a week. There had been no nightmares. No replaying of the awful events that had brought him to this time and place. There had been no fears about leaving his sister alone in a strange country with only older cousins to watch out and care for her. He had not dreamt of gunshots and blood and screams. There had been no haunting vision of an empty future populated only by endless coffins. It had been a long night of being wrapped in the black warmth of undisturbed sleep. Now, though, as the day laid claim to him, Andrew found himself beginning to be lost - once again - in his fears.

He stood and walked over to the dresser where a pitcher of fresh water awaited him. Andrew splashed it on his face, keeping his hands covering his eyes, letting the water run over his face, down his arms, dampening the sleeves of the shirt he wore. Nightmares crept back into his consciousness, as he thought of Annalise, alone in the dark, unable to escape the storm that raged overhead. Andrew willed the thought to the back of his mind where it rested with all the other nightmares he had accumulated. Someone would be paying for what had been done to this girl he loved. It did not matter how they would pay or who would be collecting the payment but someone needed to answer for what had been done; Andrew knew exactly who would be doing the paying.

Andrew mentally shook himself and raised his head. He looked at himself in the aged mirror that hung on the wall and was shocked at his appearance. How many days had it been since he had shaved, had eaten more than a few bites, had more than a few hours of uninterrupted, drug-free sleep? Andrew felt stupid for asking those questions of himself, how much worse was it for Annalise? As he turned to go, Andrew noticed a shadow shape imprinted into the faded paint of the room and remembered what kind of a place this had once been.

He walked over to the shape, placing his hand over the shadowy cross, offering a prayer unto heaven. "God," Andrew whispered, "it matters little what happens to me but, please, let Annalise be alive and let us return her to those who love and wait for her." He gently patted the imprint of the cross before turning to get ready.

Twenty minutes later Andrew had dressed in the clothes left for him, finding them a bit large but serviceable. He had slipped on the riding boots he had been wearing when he had first arrived at this strange place and he was now anxious to get started. All he could think of as he walked through the dusty corridors of the old monastery was that by the next morning Annalise would be home safe with family; his fate mattering little in comparison. Andrew walked into the entry hall and heard voices coming from behind the closed door of what he had come to know as the study. He walked over and stood quietly, listening.

"Surely you do not mean to go to her?" Tomas was asking.

"I do not know what I mean to do beyond returning Annalise to her mother," Erik replied.

"She has a father, too," the soft answer came.

"As I am all too painfully aware."

Andrew could almost imagine the shake of Erik's head.

"I admit I do not know the person you were all those years ago," Tomas said, "but I know the person that you are now. Do not allow yourself to take advantage of the grief these people suffer in an attempt to reclaim the feelings that once existed between you and the Comtesse."

Andrew heard the sound of footsteps and quickly retreated to the other side of the entry hall. He watched as the door opened, Tomas standing there, still facing the room. "How would Mademoiselle feel towards you if such a thing were done?"

Andrew could not hear an answer from where he stood.

"I go now to prepare," Tomas said as he turned on his heel. He crossed the hall and walked out the front door, never seeing Andrew standing in the shadows.

Sighing deeply and taking his life into his hands, Andrew walked through the hall and into the study. He saw Erik bent over his desk, head in his hands. Andrew took a perverse pleasure in loudly closing the door. "Was it truly necessary to drug me?" he asked.

"Watch your tone of voice with me, boy," Erik warned softly.

"Or what?" Andrew wondered.

Erik deemed the response unworthy of answer.

"I know why you did it," Andrew said softly, "and now that I am done being angry at your actions, I wanted to thank you."

"Do not be so quick with your thanks," Erik replied. "My motives are never altruistic." He finally turned to look at Andrew. "I only wished to have a few hours of silence without your constant questions."

They stared silently at each other for a long moment.

"Why do you do that?" Andrew asked.

Erik raised an eyebrow at him. "I do not know what you could possibly mean."

"That!" Andrew nearly yelled. "Why is it the moment someone says or does something nice to you, your response is always sarcastic or rude. Why can you not just accept the fact that there are actually people in this world you can look past your face to see what lies inside?"

"There is nothing inside for anyone to see," Erik replied, his eyes beginning to glitter dangerously.

Andrew was not about to back down. "You have a heart and a conscience even if you will not admit that they exist. There is a good man who lives within you and one day he will get out and you will not be able to put him back in."

Erik glared at Andrew. He drew a deep breath and let it slowly, his fingers unclenching. "I am aware of my heart," he muttered darkly, "but do not make the mistake of giving me a conscience. One most possess a soul in order have a conscience and I have neither one nor the other."

"Perhaps not," Andrew reluctantly admitted. "I still thank you for allowing me to sleep but you could have asked instead of making the decision for me."

"I am not used to asking permission from anyone."

Andrew crossed the small room to look out the window. "So I am discovering."

"I am glad you understand the reason I did so," Erik had to admit. "You prove - yet again - that you are not an imbecile."

"Thank you." Andrew continued to look out the window, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Andrew," Erik addressed him, "I need you to look at me for there is something I must ask of you."

Andrew turned around and sat on the edge of the window seat.

"I am going to extract a promise from you and you must swear on whatever it is that you hold holy and dear that you will honor it."

"Without even knowing what it is?" Andrew asked.

"You must trust me on this," Erik replied, a smirk crossing his face. "You have a conscience so you will know if this is the correct thing to do."

Andrew thought for a moment and nodded.

"When we get to the place where Annalise is being held, your only job is to get her out of there and back to her family. You must promise me that you will not do anything to the man who has her."

Disbelief entered the room as a viable, tangible presence.

"I cannot make that promise!" Andrew said between clenched teeth. "You do not know what you are asking of me!"

"I beg to differ," Erik replied in an even tone of voice. "I do know what I am asking of you and I know how difficult it will be to restrain your emotions." He paused for a moment. "But you must do as I ask."

"Why?" Andrew demanded. "You tell me why!"

"The day you killed that man in your youth was the day you dipped your hands in blood but it is blood shed by a child who has not shed any since. You know your darkness and do not act upon it." Erik sighed. "I, on the other hand, have blood that literally drips from my fingers and I am intimately acquainted with my darkness. If you hope to ever start a life with Annalise, I would not have you go to her with that man's blood on your hands. I tell you this from my own experience; such a thing will surely destroy you from the inside. Annalise will see this dark thing within you and it could destroy her, as well. You need to go to her with an open and clean heart, no secrets and no shadows." Erik grew dark. "I have no such hopes for my life and will gladly destroy this man for what he has done."

"Have you thought this through?" Andrew shook his head. "What if something happens to you? What if something happens to me? He will not let Annalise go without a fight."

Erik placed two fingers on the bridge of his nose. "Andrew, listen to me and consider my words. If something happens to you, I will still be there to deal with this man and Tomas will ensure that Annalise is returned to her family. Should something happen to me you will still return Annalise to her family and Tomas will deal with that man. Either way you will not have his blood on your hands. Do you understand me? You cannot have his blood on your hands."

Andrew chewed on his bottom lip, thinking, indecision warring with reason. "Yes. All right," he finally replied. "I shall do my best to honor this promise you extract from me." He flashed a warning look in Erik's direction. "Do not expect more from me than that."

"It will do," Erik told him.

"This will not do," Michaud said to himself as he unlocked the door to the room where he kept Annalise and entered. "It just will not do."

"What will not do?" Annalise asked. She sat on the bed, legs straight out in front of her, empty eyes staring at the man standing in the doorway. "What did I do wrong?"

He was fighting a losing battle with the angry stranger who lived inside of him and Michaud needed to have Annalise awake so that he could talk with her before he would not be able to speak with her anymore. It broke his heart to see the emptiness in her face and to know that part of him was responsible for it being there. He knew the emptiness and feared it more than the anger. His own emptiness - the nothingness - brought the evil that did things even the anger could not do and those were the things that haunted his conscious moments. That was what frightened him - the length to which the nothingness would allow the evil to accomplish its ends. Michaud walked across the room to sit on the bed. He reached out for Annalise and fought down the anger when she did not react, in any way, to his touch.

"You did nothing wrong. You have never done anything wrong," he began. "I need to tell you something ..."

"If you want me to beg or to crawl, I can do that," Annalise said in a quiet monotone.

Michaud fought back the urge to shake the girl. "Listen to what I have to say first, please." He saw Annalise slowly nod her head. "I want you to know that I never meant any of this to happen. I never meant it to go this far but I could not stop; they would not let me stop. All I meant to do was to add you to my conquests. I knew it would hurt you but then I did not care. Then Andrew," Michaud closed his eyes and exhaled hard, keeping a tenuous hold on his true self for a bit longer. He opened his eyes again. "Then Andrew entered the picture and I found I could no longer control the anger. That was the point when I lost control and you were drawn into this nightmare." He reached out a gentle hand to Annalise's face. "I am so sorry. There are not words to tell you how truly sorry I am."

It was there for a brief moment, a tiny flash of human emotion in Annalise's blue eyes. "I forgive you," she whispered, leaning into the hand that touched her cheek. The humanity was gone in one breath leaving only a single tear to trace down her cheek.

The anger receded a bit further, screaming its protest. "I wish I could turn back time so that this would never have happened." Michaud took his hand back. "I wish I could find a way to return you to your family."

"I cannot go to a place that does not exist," Annalise told him as she shrugged her shoulders. She gave the man seated next to her a strange smile. "We should leave France and find a new place that we can call our own." Annalise drew her knees up and moved closer to Michaud and rested her head on his shoulder. "We can always go to the islands that you visited. No one will ever find us there." She ran a painfully thin finger up and down his arm.

"You do not understand!" Michaud exclaimed as he took Annalise by the shoulders, turning so that he could face her. "This cannot work! I never loved you!"

Annalise interrupted him by reaching up to place her hands on either side of his face. She drew his head down so that she could whisper in his ear, "I can make it work."

The warmth of her breath on his ear, the feel of her in his arms, the promise she was offering was all too much for the rational part of his mind to handle and Michaud surrendered control. "You want to make it work?" the angry stranger asked.

"Yes," Annalise answered in an empty voice as she drew back to look into dangerously glowing eyes.

"Then make it work," the anger whispered back as it grabbed her face, kissing her roughly. It drew back and stared into a nothingness that was all too familiar. "Make it work!" it growled.

"As you please," Annalise whispered, her gaze distant and unfocused, "as you please." She drew close, returning the kiss, wrapping thin arms around the anger's neck, drawing him close as she lowered them both to the bed. Annalise kept her arms around the anger as it raised its head to look at her.

The anger stared at the girl beneath it, unable to notice the fact that she was staring through it and at the world beyond. It reached in for another kiss. And another. It began to place kisses along the contours of her neck. It felt the arms about its neck fall away. The anger looked up and finally noticed the emptiness of the still girl lying with it. There was no movement, no emotion, no life - the girl had become a living, broken doll. At that moment of realization, the anger slipped away and Michaud regained control.

Michaud laid a gentle hand on Annalise's cheek. "I will find a way to fix this," he said quietly. "I promise."

There was no response.

Michaud stood up, leaving Annalise lying on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. He walked across the room and out the door, leaving it open for the first time in almost a week. He moved slowly through the hallway, each step measured and calculated as reason struggled with madness. Michaud walked down the stairs and stopped at the curve in the staircase. He looked at the niche cut into the wall, seeing the dust-covered wooden planks that rested there, the sight slowly beginning to turn red as the anger regained control.

In the room that he had left, Annalise heard the shouts and the dull thuds as wood pounded upon wood. The thuds began to echo her heartbeat, stirring a chord buried deep within. Annalise curled into a ball, placing her hands over her ears._ "Maman,"_ she prayed silently.

_Please, please, please, please,_ the silent prayer echoed to the hoof beats of the horse that Andrew rode.

Andrew did not know how much time had passed for he dared not take his eyes off the road in front of him to check his watch. He did know it had to have been a least a few hours since they had left the monastery for the sky was slowly beginning to take on the lavender hues of summer twilight. He heard the sound of the chaise behind him, the snorting evidence of the two powerful horses' wish to have their heads and be set free. The thought passed his mind that Regine must be skilled, indeed, to control such incredibly strong animals. Tomas was with Regine and would take charge of the horse that Andrew rode when Annalise was once again in his arms.

"Enough of a trot," Andrew said as expert legs felt the muscle movement of the chest between them. He gave a quick glance to the rider beside him, cape flaring out behind.

Erik returned the glance with a nod of his head. "You are the horseman."

Both men tapped stirrups into their respective horse's flanks.

_Please, please, please, please,_ the unspoken prayer matched the increased speed of the horses and carriage as they raced through the deepening night.


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Summary: Erik and Andrew reach the place where Annalise is being held captive. But will they be in time?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The sound of an owl echoed through the night air, not out of place in the dark shadowed woods. Yet at the sound, two riders on the lonely road pulled back on their reins, horses stopping. They turned, watching and waiting as the chaise that traveled behind drew alongside. The powerful stallion and the fiery mare drawing the chaise snorted and stamped at the ground, evidence of their displeasure at being stilled.

"Where to now, Tomas?" Erik asked, his hands holding to the reins of his horse.

"There is a small rohis point, do you understand?"

Andrew nodded, knowing the older man was correct and hating himself for acting like a spoiled child. "Yes," he answered. "I understand."

Erik almost wanted to smile for he recognized the self-chiding tone of Andrew's voice.

"Someone approaches," Regine said as he reached for the loaded gun he kept on the seat.

"No!" Tomas warned him, covering the gun with his own hand. "This is why we wait."

The heightened awareness of the group did not diminish with his words as they watched the shadowy shape slowly approach through the dark. As the figure drew close, they could see it was a man dressed in simple chating himself for acting like a spoiled child. "Yes," he answered. "I understand."

Erik almost wanted to smile for he recognized the self-chiding tone of Andrew's voice.

"Someone approaches," Regine said as he reached for the loaded gun he kept on the seat.

"No!" Tomas warned him, covering the gun with his own hand. "This is why we wait."

The heightened awareness of the group did not diminish with his words as they watched the shadowy shape slowly approach through the dark. As the figure drew close, they could see it was a man dressed in simple clothing; he looked worn beyond his years and tired. The man stopped just short of where Andrew and Erik sat their horses, eyeing with suspicion the expensive chaise and the more expensive horses. Tomas jumped out of the chaise and greeted the man warmly.

"Charles," Tomas said as he clasped the man by the arm.

Charles nodded at the group behind Tomas. "Are they to be trusted?" he wondered.

Erik felt more than saw Andrew's reaction to the spoken words. "What did I just tell you?" he warned.

Tomas saw Charles' eyes dart towards Andrew. "He is in love with the young lady I asked you to watch, you understand."

"Aye," Charles replied hesitantly, drawing the word out, returning his gaze to the only man in the group he truly trusted. "They have been in the house since you left two days ago. I heard screams and cries after you left and there were loud pounding noises earlier today."

Erik's hands closed tightly around the reins of his horse. "If she is dead, I will kill him."

"Not before I can," Andrew muttered under his breath.

"Sound carries easily in these woods," Charles said, nodding towards the horses and carriage. "If you wish to come upon the house unawares, they must stay here until the lady is out of the house." He took off his cap, scratching his scalp before placing it back on his head. "It will be a grace if the noise has not already been heard."

"A very astute observation," Erik agreed as he dismounted, noting that Andrew had already done so. He handed the reins of his horse to Andrew, watching as the young man walked the horses around to tie them to the back of the chaise. He turned his attention back to Tomas and Charles. "You have both been through these woods; what is the best way to approach the house so that we draw as little attention to ourselves as possible?"

Tomas waited until Andrew had rejoined them. "We want to come from the back and the front at the same time." He tilted his head towards Charles, allowing the other man to answer.

"We can take the main drive to where it divides heading both to front and back. The drive is wooded and the shadows should give adequate cover and it will keep the noise down," Charles began. "Once the drive splits, though, that is when you need to seek the cover of the woods for any sign of activity can be seen from the house. The woods are a bit thicker towards the back of the house; you can use them as cover almost to the door. I do not believe that door is locked." He raised his head to look at the half moon shining in the cloudless sky. "It will be darker back there," he stated simply.

"It matters little," Erik replied. "I have lived my life in darkness and my eyes are accustomed to seeing in little or no light. I will go through the back."

Charles grunted as he turned to look at Andrew. "That hair of yours is not going to be your friend in this."

Andrew closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly before he realized what Charles meant. "Damn," he swore softly, a hand reaching up to touch blonde hair that reflected the moonlight. He opened his eyes as he felt something being pressed into his other hand; it was a dark piece of material.

"It is Tomas' neckerchief," Erik told Andrew. "Wrap it around your hair; it should suffice."

Andrew nodded his thanks as he covered his hair, tying the dark material at the base of his neck.

Charles cast a critical eye. "It will have to do," he said and continued, ignoring the angry, frustrated look from Andrew. "The approach to the front is a bit more difficult as the drive circles around the facade and across the front lawn. It is all open space and the best you can hope for is to stay in the wooded area as long as possible before breaking for the front portico. It isn't a long portico but the door is in the center. You will need to keep low to the edge of the portico so you cannot be seen through the windows. Then it is up the center stairs and through the door."

Erik turned to look at Tomas. "Once you get Andrew through the front door, you must come back and bring Regine as close as possible to the house. Once Mademoiselle is away from that man ..."

"Monster," Andrew said to no one in particular.

"Away from that man," Erik continued, choosing to ignore Andrew, "we need to get her from this place as quickly as possible. We can take no chances. Do you understand?"

_"Oui, monsieur,"_ Tomas answered and turned to Charles. "Can you wait at the end of the drive for my signal and then signal to Regine?"

Charles nodded. "I shall listen for the owl." He looked at Regine. "You must listen, as well; it is the same sound that caused you to stop here."

"I know the sound," Regine assured them with a nod. "I shall be ready at the very instant you signal. Do not worry, you bring Mademoiselle de Chagny to me and I will have her back to her parents in the morning."

"Then let us not waste any more time," Erik said, "too much has already passed."

Four men moved quickly down the road, keeping to the shadows along the edges. They jogged in silence, vigilant eyes watching the surrounding darkness. It was a hot, still summer night and only the occasional cry of a night bird and the rustling along the forest floor betrayed their presence. They could hear the sound of the horses as the animals reacted to the unseen emotions that hung in the night air. The men were thankful that as they approached the drive to the house, the sound of the horses grew ever more distant and faded into the background noise of the woods.

"Here," Charles whispered urgently as he pointed and turned down a drive cut into the woods; he trusted the others to follow.

They kept to the edge of the drive, shadows in shadows; the leafy canopy of the trees hiding their approach. As the drive slowly widened, the woods surrendered their dominion and up ahead, beneath the light of the over-hanging moon, a house drew into focus. It sat in the midst of a circle cut from the heart of the woods, quiet and ominous, candlelight winking from window eyes that gazed into the potent night. Charles held up a hand causing everyone to stop.

"Here is where we must part," he said simply.

Erik looked at Andrew, placing a hand on the young man's arm. "You know what must be done. Her safety at all costs and you leave that man to my ministrations."

Andrew could feel his heart beating as though it would break through his chest. "Understood," he nodded. "Go with God."

"I can only hope," Erik replied and leaned towards Tomas. "Stay with him and try to keep from doing anything foolish," he said softly before disappearing into the surrounding shadows.

"Come," Tomas told Andrew with a tug on his sleeve.

Charles watched as the two men followed the wooded border of the drive as long as possible. He saw as they sprinted across the open area between the drive and the house before dropping to their knees and crawling along the edge of the portico, hidden by its height. He was not a man who played by or agreed with society's rules but he had never knowingly hurt any person - much less a young girl barely into womanhood. Charles crossed himself and spit into the ground, his only form of prayer for the success of the men who were making their individual ways towards the silent, brooding house. He turned to look for the man who had gone towards the back of the house but he had already vanished.

"My pretty little princess has vanished," the anger was saying as it stood in the open doorway of the bedroom watching Annalise with a strange amusement on its face. "I wonder where she went?"

Annalise was holding onto one of the bed's posters, her head leaning against it. She struggled to find her way through the drug-induced cloud that always held her in its grip whenever she awoke. She raised dead eyes to look at the thing standing in the doorway, trying to focus as it approached. "I have nowhere to go," she said in a monotone.

The anger stopped at her side, reaching out and grabbing her chin, lifting her face so that Annalise was forced to stare into eyes that glittered with hate and anger. "That's right; you have nowhere to go." It pinched the girl's bruised jaw for good measure and felt the anger grow as there was no cry of pain in response. "Now," it hissed, "who is the only one in this world that cares for you?"

"You are," Annalise replied, her eyes closing.

The anger released her chin. "What a good little girl you are and because you are, what would you like me to do?" It reached out a finger to trace the curve of her lips. "Perhaps you can make it work," it chuckled.

"Let me sleep," Annalise said, hoping for her only means of escape. "I just want to sleep."

"I cannot do that," the anger told her. "It is time for a lesson in pain. It is time for you to learn how to crawl." It reached over, grabbing Annalise's hair, pulling her head back. "I am sick of waiting."

"I am sick of waiting," Andrew muttered to himself and stuck his head up from where he crouched underneath the edge of the portico. He saw Tomas kneeling by the front door but could not see what he was doing to the lock. Andrew took several deep breaths in an effort to control his agitation.

Tomas turned around. "Get down!" he whispered strongly before turning back to the task at hand.

Andrew did not even have time to comply with Tomas' order for Tomas immediately turned back to him, the front door gently swinging open. "Thank God," he breathed.

Tomas moved quietly across the porch and down the few stairs to crouch next to Andrew. "Remember, move quietly and quickly. There are stairs just inside the door to the right."

"Go," Andrew said with a nod towards the main drive. "Get Regine here and waiting."

"I will be but a moment," Tomas said as he watched Andrew quietly move towards the door and safely inside the house before running down the drive, an owl's cry echoing through the dark woods.

The dark woods proved a friend to Erik and he moved quickly and quietly through them. Years of living in the depths below - and the shadows of - the opera house gave him an advantage over other men. He was sure footed and quiet as he jogged quietly past trees and over the dangers that lurked underfoot. He would pause occasionally to listen to the night, watching the house for any sign of discovery. He had gained the last bit of shadow before the house, the back door within but a few steps when he stopped. Erik waited for the call of an owl to let him know that the front entrance had been breached.

While he waited his thoughts drifted towards the one person his thoughts had always drifted towards - Christine. The dull ache and the longing were still there, still his attachment to the girl who had so enchanted him. Now, though, the ache and the longing were no longer centered around him and his needs; they were felt for Christine. No matter how hard he tried, Erik could not begin to fathom the anguish his beloved angel must have been suffering the last days. A strange thought passed through his mind as he looked upwards towards the lights flickering on the second floor and it startled him. What had that sweet child done to him?

The thought was quickly willed away, all emotions buried again as the sound of an owl filled the night air. Erik drew a deep breath and walked boldly through the back door. _"Hold on little angel,"_ he thought.

_"Hold on, Annalise,"_ Andrew thought as he entered the house, noting the staircase to his right. He walked softly across the floor, trying to evenly distribute his weight to avoid making any creaking noises. He reached the stairs and began to make his way up them. _"Just hold on,"_ the thought played over and over in his mind.

"Why do you insist on holding onto that post?" the anger wanted to know as it let go of Annalise's hair. "Would you not rather hold onto me?"

Annalise returned her head to rest against the bedpost, the spinning room slowly drawing into focus. She kept her eyes focused on the window, unwilling to look at the man next to her. A dark, desperate thought began to grow in the emptiness that held her in its grip and she did not want him to see it. "It spins and swirls," Annalise told him. "It makes me dizzy."

The anger reached out a hand to pat her head as if Annalise were nothing more than a pet. "Poor little princess ..." The anger stopped in mid-sentence, its head abruptly turning towards the door, eyes narrowing. Something was not right; it could sense a change in the air. It turned back to the girl on the bed. "Do not move from this spot," it growled and disappeared out the bedroom door before Annalise could answer.

Annalise watched out the corner of her eye as the anger left the room. She returned her attention to the window, slowly standing, a sad determination on her face. "It's time to go home," she said quietly as she started to walk towards the window. "Maybe God will still want me."

_"Oh God!"_ Andrew thought in despair as a stair creaked beneath his weight. He paused for a moment, listening to the still house and shook his head. "Damn it anyway," he said under his breath and took the stairs two at a time.

Andrew had just reached the curve of the staircase when a large dark shape swung at his head from the wall. Nerves and senses heightened by the task before him, Andrew quickly ducked and only felt the wind as the object passed over his head. He struggled to maintain hold of his balance as he raised his head to see Michaud standing in front of him, a board in his hand. "Where is she?" Andrew demanded.

"Nowhere you can ever get to her again!" Michaud said, arms moving back.

It happened in the space of a heartbeat. Eyes grown used to the dark, Andrew could see the subtle movement of the other man's arms and knew the board would be swinging his way again. He turned away from the oncoming swing in the hope that the board would miss and Michaud would be thrown off balance. The turn was not fast enough and the board connected with Andrew's arm. The force of the blow was enough to cause Andrew to lose his footing and go tumbling down the stairs. He finally stopped at the base of the staircase, splayed on his back, motionless.

Michaud walked down the stairs to look at what he had done. He stopped at the bottom step and poked at Andrew with one foot. There was no response and Andrew's closed eyes did not open. Michaud needed to be sure and kicked out at the still man; he only succeeded in jostling the unconscious Andrew like a rag doll. Satisfied that Andrew would present no further problem, Michaud climbed the staircase stopping at the board he had dropped. He picked up the board and threw it at Andrew; it landed on his chest. "Now you can see her again!" He shouted as he turned to climb the rest of the stairs, sprinting down the hall and into the open bedroom door. "What are you doing?" he demanded of the girl standing by the open window.

Annalise did not respond to him, her thoughts already flying free in the world just beyond the open window.

Michaud walked over and grabbed her bruised and cut wrist. "I have a gift for the little princess!" he said in a menacing tone and dragged the listless girl from the room. He pulled her down the hallway to the darkened staircase, grabbing her head and forcing her to look down. "There is my present to you," he hissed in her ear. "You wanted the perfect little boy? Well there he is, princess; sorry the toy is broken."

Annalise looked down the stairs at the shape lying in the light coming through the open front door. Her brows knitted in concentration as her mind struggled through the drugged confusion trying to remember. Her breathing grew more rapid as a clear memory broke through her clouded reason. "Andrew ..." she breathed. "Andrew!" she screamed bursting into tears. "No!"

Michaud let go of her head and grabbed the kicking, crying girl about the waist, pulling her back down the hall. "Yes!" he shouted, as he threw Annalise into the room. "Now what are you going to do? Your perfect little knight lies broken and dead and there is no one else to help you."

There was only sobbing from the girl on the floor.

Michaud walked over and dragged her up by her arms, pushing her into the wall and turning her around to face him. "You have become a liability," he snarled at her.

Annalise could not find words beyond her tears.

Michaud ran a single hand over her throat. "I heard the stories of your mother and the Opera Ghost. I heard that he killed anyone who got in the way of his love for her. I heard he strangled them with a noose." He moved his other hand up to encircle Annalise's neck. "That is rather impersonal do you not think?" He asked quietly as his hands tightened about her throat.

Erik felt his throat tighten as the sound of something crashing and falling reverberated through the still house. He had been searching for the back staircase, cursing the incompetent architect who had built the house, when the crashing sound caused him to pause in his search. His thoughts flickered to Andrew and he willed down the fear that began to grow in his stomach. The fear did not stay down as he heard Annalise scream Andrew's name.

"Damn it," he said to the darkened house as he found his way through rooms and hallways to emerge into the entry foyer. He stopped as he saw Tomas kneeling next to Andrew.

Tomas felt Erik's presence and looked up. "He is only stunned," Tomas said.

Erik moved towards the stairs, pausing to look down at Andrew. He heaved a silent sigh as he noticed Andrew's eyelids flutter.

Andrew managed to lift his head and saw Erik standing over him. "Upstairs," he managed. "Go!" Andrew's head dropped back to the floor.

Erik knew that Tomas would see to whatever Andrew needed and he bounded up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, it took only a moment for Erik to see the light coming from an open door. He moved like a cat, quietly and swiftly towards that light. As he reached the edge of the door, he heard the words "opera ghost" come from the room.

That was all it took.

Erik quickly entered the doorway. He saw a tall man with his hands around Annalise's throat and a darkness from his past overwhelmed Erik. He reached beneath the cloak he wore his fingers sure and steady as they felt the rope that hung from his belt.

The whine of the lasso split the quietness of the room and Michaud felt himself pulled away from the girl beneath his hands. He reached up to pull at the sudden constriction about his throat only to find himself falling backwards onto the floor. Angry, rough hands grabbed at him, rolling him over, pulling at arms and ankles. Michaud struggled in vain as he felt the rope from his neck pulled taught around his limbs.

"The more you struggle, the sooner you die," a deadly voice whispered in his ear and then was gone.

Erik finished binding Michaud and turned to see Annalise slide down the wall and crumple to the floor.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Summary: Erik returns Annalise to Andrew and extracts answers from Michaud. Erik finds he cannot take his revenge and realizes why as he discovers what Annalise has done to him.

_(A/N - First official approval of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation came in 1740 when The Paris Academy of Sciences officially recommends mouth-to-mouth resuscitation for drowning victims.)_

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

"No," Erik breathed as he quickly crossed to Annalise's side, lifting her gently into his arms. He rested a hand on her chest and could not feel it moving. "No!" he cried. "Not now, not now."

There was a low chuckle from behind him.

Erik willed his fury for the creature on the floor to the back of his mind; there would enough time to make him painfully pay for what he had done later but at the moment there was urgent work that needed to be done. Erik moved a gentle hand up to Annalise's throat to gently stroke it. "Breathe, little one," he whispered, "please breathe."

There was no response.

"Not now," Erik fumed through clenched teeth as he placed Annalise flat on the floor. He tilted her head back, pinching her nose shut. Erik drew a deep breath before placing his mouth over Annalise's and blowing. He watched as her chest rose and fell and then nothing. "Breathe, my little angel," Erik begged as he stroked her throat. He gently patted her cheek, noting the bruises for later. "Annalise, you need to breathe!"

It was barely a minute or two but it seemed like an eternity to Erik as he stroked Annalise's throat, waiting for any sign of life. He prayed to God, bargained with Satan, trying anything and everything to get the girl on the floor to breathe. Erik was bending over to try breathing directly into her lungs again when there was a loud intake of breath. Annalise arched her back, before falling back to the floor, her eyes slowly blinking open, her chest rising and falling. Erik laid a gentle hand on her cheek and was crushed when she tried to draw away from him.

"Let me die," Annalise said as she tried to roll away from the person next to her. "Let me die."

"Annalise," Erik began as he touched her face, trying to get her to look at him.

"Don't touch me!" she tried to yell, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Erik placed both hands gently on the bruised face that turned from him, moving it back so that he could look into it. His heart broke as he noticed the empty eyes that had once twinkled so brightly at him. "Annalise," his voice seemed to bounce off the walls and even stilled the squirming man behind him. Erik exhaled slowly as Annalise stopped fighting him. "It is Erik. I am here to take you home."

The head he held shook back and forth. "No home. No family. No one loves me," Annalise told him, her eyes closing. "Not real. Not real."

"That is not true," Erik told her as he reached for her hand, raising it to the deformed side of his face, watching as her eyes opened. "It is Erik and I am here to take you home to the family who grieve your loss." He looked into Annalise's eyes. "It is Erik and I would never lie to you."

Erik watched as Annalise slowly focused on his face. He held his breath as one of her fingers began to gently trace the ragged skin beneath his eye. Her hand moved slowly over the marred landscape of his face and up into his scalp. Erik found he could not draw breath as he felt those fingertips slowly search for reassurance. They were warm and trembling and so gentle, the kind of human touch for which he had searched all his life. His breath returned as he noted the light begin to flicker in Annalise's eyes.

"Erik?" she whispered. Her fingers wandered back to the taught skin under his eye. "Erik? Real?"

"Yes, I am real," Erik told her, struggling to keep the tears from his voice as he wondered just what had happened to break Annalise like this. Erik reached up to his collar, pulling out the locket she had sent him a little over seven days ago. "It is Erik of the woods and quiet afternoons. Do you not remember sending me this token as a remembrance of the bond we share?"

Annalise took her eyes from his face and looked at the little gold locket that was held between his fingers. A tentative hand reached out for it, the fingers lightly touching the shiny metal. The fingers left the locket and returned to Erik's face. Annalise kept her hand on themarred side of his face, her eyes never leaving his. "Real," she breathed and suddenly her arms were around his neck, holding on for dear life. "Do not let me go. Do not let me go," Annalise kept repeating.

"I will never let you go," Erik said as he scooped Annalise into his arms. He stood in one fluid movement, moving out the door of the bedroom, ignoring the snarling, growling man on the floor. Erik stood motionless in the hallway for a brief moment before turning left and kicking open the nearest door, the girl in his arms jumping at the sound.

"Don't hurt me!" Annalise cried.

"You are safe, little one," Erik tried reassuring her as he scanned the room. There was a small bed sitting beneath a window and he crossed the room to sit on the edge. His heart fell as he finally noticed how little the girl in his arms weighed - what had been done to her? Erik took note of the bruises he could see and wondered at the ones he could not. Annalise was resting her head against the crook of his neck and Erik lowered his head to rest against hers. He felt a blackness growing in his heart as he looked down and saw the bruised ankles peeking out from beneath the hem of the night dress. Erik had already noted the bruises about Annalise's wrists and could think of only one reason for there to be matching marks about her ankles; he felt his fingers begin to curl in anger.

Annalise felt the movement in the arms that held her so close and she tightened her arms about Erik's neck. "Do not leave me alone!" she pleaded.

"Just leave me alone," Andrew said through teeth clenched in pain.

"But ..." Tomas said as he reached out for the young man.

"If you touch it, it will just make it worse," Andrew warned. "I have had this happen before. I know what to do. Just help me get to my feet and do not touch my shoulder." He fixed Tomas with a determined look.

"Aye," Tomas said as he moved to Andrew's left side. He put a hand behind Andrew's back and another on his left arm. "Ready?" he asked and Andrew nodded. Tomas lifted him to a sitting position, wincing at the sharp intake of breath.

"I need to get to a wall," Andrew muttered as he slipped his knees beneath him so that he could rise to his feet.

Tomas kept hold of him, helping Andrew to get to his feet. "Are you sure?"

Andrew swallowed, breathing deeply, working through the pain. "It has happened twice before when I have been thrown from horses. I have learned how to fix it." His chest heaved with the effort of breathing through the agony radiating outwards from his dislocated shoulder. "I just need a wall and a moment."

"This way," Tomas said with a shake of his head, still unsure the young man knew what he was doing. He helped Andrew to turn around and moved him against one darkened wall.

"I need to do this alone," Andrew warned Tomas and watched as the older man stepped back. "Right," Andrew breathed. "One." He closed his eyes. "Two." Andrew leaned his right side into the wall. "Three."

Tomas blinked in astonishment as Andrew slammed his right shoulder into the wall, a sound between a scream and a groan escaping from between clenched teeth. Tomas was at his side as Andrew slide down to a sitting position on the floor, his head bent to his chest, left arm still cradling the right. _"Mon Dieu,"_ Thomas exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

Andrew raised his head and looked down as he tentatively moved his right arm. He and Tomas both heaved sighs of relief as the arm and shoulder moved freely. "Help me up," Andrew asked, taking the hand that Tomas offered. "I have to get to Annalise."

"Be careful," Tomas reminded him as Andrew moved quickly up the stairs.

"Care be damned," Andrew muttered to himself as he ran down the hall and into the door from which came the glow of candle light. He paused momentarily looking around the room and not seeing Annalise. Andrew turned his attention to the figure trussed up and lying on the floor.

"You bastard ..." Andrew said as he entered the room.

Erik heard the familiar voice and called out. "Andrew, no!" he ordered, that strange voice once again bouncing off walls, commanding attention. "Next door, quickly!"

Andrew turned, quickly leaving the room, standing confused in the darkened hallway.

"The door to your left, Andrew," Erik's voice came.

Andrew looked to his left and saw the open door. He sprinted in, his heart returning to his chest as he saw Annalise cradled in Erik's arms. "Annalise," he breathed.

"No Andrew," Annalise cried. "Dead. Does not want me. Does not love me." Her sad little voice could be heard in the silence of the room.

"Quickly," Erik told Andrew and turned his attention to the girl in his arms. "Annalise, I need you to listen to me." He touched her chin hoping that she would look at him.

"Don't hit me," Annalise said as she flinched away from his touch.

Erik bit down his anger; he did not want the girl clinging to him so desperately to see anything but compassion. "Annalise," he said softly, "please look at me." He watched as she slowly raised her head. "My little angel, Andrew is right here waiting for you."

"No," Annalise sobbed as she shook her head. "Said he was dead. I saw."

Andrew reached out a hand to stroke Annalise's hair. "I am not dead," he said, his heart breaking for the girl that he loved. "I am right here and I love you." Andrew's voice broke. "I love you so much."

Annalise listened to the voice speaking to her and turned her head from Erik. She looked over her shoulder at the man standing there. "Andrew?" she whispered.

"Oh God," Andrew breathed as he finally saw the bruises that discolored Annalise's skin, his soul crushed as his mind played horrible images of what she must have had to endure.

His reaction caused Annalise to once again bury her head in Erik's neck. "Does not want me. Does not love me."

Erik glowered at Andrew as he sat down on the bed. Andrew touched a hand gently to Annalise's shoulder. "I do want you," he told her, "and I do love you and I am not leaving this place without you." He leaned over, placing his head against Annalise's. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

The sobbing of the girl in his arms slowed, diminishing into silent tears. Erik watched as Andrew moved a hand to hold onto Annalise's arm. He did not realize he was not breathing until he sighed as Annalise took a hand from around his neck to place it over Andrew's. Annalise drew back from Erik in agonizingly slow motion. He saw as she turned to face Andrew whose tears matched her own. Erik smiled inwardly as recognition and wonder passed through Annalise's eyes, lighting a small fire.

"Real?" Annalise said as she put a finger out to touch the tears on Andrew's cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Real," she breathed as she opened them again. "Andrew," it was the voice of a small child.

Erik withdrew his arms from the girl in his lap as Andrew extended his own. Erik helped Andrew shift Annalise to his own lap as she wrapped her arms about him, resting her head against Andrew's heart. Erik stood, placing his cape around Annalise.

"Hold me, hold me," Annalise was whispering.

"Forever," Andrew whispered back and looked up at Erik.

"Andrew," Erik whispered, "I need you to wait here a few moments longer. There are answers I need and that her family will need. I do not want her hearing anything I am about to say." Andrew nodded and Erik laid a soft kiss on the top of Annalise's head. "My sweet little angel," he said softly. "I shall return in a few minutes." Erik swept out of the room.

"Did the perfect little boy keep his promises?" Michaud managed to choke out as Erik re-entered the bedroom, walking over to kneel next to him.

Erik glared at the bound man on the floor. "You have much for which you must answer," he snarled as he moved to kneel next to Michaud.

Angry, evil eyes stared back at Erik. "You cannot make me."

Erik reached out a hand to the knot at the base of Michaud's neck and slipped fingers under the rope. He pulled on it gently and relished the look of pain that he received in response. "Understand this," Erik breathed as he leaned close, "I can and I will make you do anything and everything I desire." The two forces of nature glared at each other, neither willing to be the first to back down. Erik yanked on the rope in his hand and smirked at the choking response.

"I am going to ask you a question and you will answer me," Erik stated. "Did you touch her?"

"What do you think?" came the answer.

Another yank on the rope. Another choke. "Did you touch her?"

"Ask her!"

Erik drew a deep breath and released a bit of the tension on the rope. His eyes caught the gaze of the man on the floor and held it. "I am going to ask the question one last time," Erik said in a deadly tone. "I am going to ask it bluntly and you will be bluntly truthful in your answer."

"Or what?" came the question from between curled lips.

"Or I shall flay you alive." Erik said simply. "I shall make it a long and painful process whereby you retain consciousness while you watch yourself slowly bleed to death." Erik waited a moment as his words sunk in. "Now, did you rape her?"

There was a potent silence in the room.

"Answer me!" Erik demanded, his voice dangerously soft; its power filling the small room.

The anger and the evil that controlled Michaud were no match against the power of a man who once held all of Paris in a terrifying grip. Michaud exhaled through his nose, the anger giving a bit of ground. "No," he said simply.

Erik studied the look in those eyes, knowing it well for it had been his so many years ago. He roughly patted Michaud's cheek. "Such a good little monster," Erik said. "Has she had anything to eat?"

"She did nothing to deserve to be fed!" the anger spat out as it tried to regain control of the situation.

"Watch how you address me!" Erik warned as he yanked on the rope and Michaud choked. "I hold your wretched existence in my hands." He leaned close. "And there is nothing I would like more in this world than to kill you in as slow and as painful a way as possible." Erik drew back. "What drug have you given her, how often and when was the last time?" He gave another yank on the rope. "Be a good little doggie and I will stop pulling your chain."

"I think he gave her this," Tomas said from the doorway where he had been watching.

Erik looked to him, surprise on his face, not realizing that he had been standing there. Erik saw that Tomas held an almost empty apothecary jar in his hands.

"Quickly," Erik said as he held out a hand towards Tomas. The other man took the few steps towards Erik and placed the jar in his outstretched hand. Erik passed the jar under his nose, sniffing it quickly. His tongue reached out and gave a tentative taste to the lip of the jar. "Laudanum," he breathed before placing the jar on the floor. "Well done, Tomas," Erik said and turned his attention back to his captive. "How often?" he demanded.

"Whenever she awoke," Michaud spat out.

Erik closed his eyes, holding his anger in check for a few more minutes. "When was the last time you drugged her?" There was no answer. "When!" Erik shouted, the man under his hands vibrating from the force of the emotion.

"Several hours," Michaud replied before his anger returned to seething at the intruders in his domain.

"Tomas," Erik said as he took the other man's hand, placing it on the rope at the base of Michaud's neck, "if he so much as twitches, pull here and consequences be damned."

"Gladly," Tomas replied as Erik stood. "I can manage the likes of him."

"I doubt it not," Erik said as he walked out of the room and turned to his left.

"I love you, I love you, I love," Andrew was whispering as Erik walked into the darkened room. He noted that Andrew had his arms wrapped protectively around Annalise, his head resting on the top of hers. Erik walked over and touched Andrew's shoulder causing Andrew to raise his head.

"No, don't go," Annalise cried.

"Sweet little angel," Erik said as he placed a kiss on the top of Annalise's head. "It is just Erik. Andrew and I are still here."

Erik could sense the girl's panicked breathing slow and he turned to look at Andrew. "Did you hear anything?" he asked and saw Andrew shake his head.

"Then listen carefully," Erik said softly. "You must be sure that whatever doctor sees her knows that she has been heavily drugged with laudanum." Erik shook his head, the anger on his face hidden by the dark. "She will begin experiencing withdrawal within the next day. It is going to be a very difficult thing for her. Everyone must be prepared." His voice was quiet as he spoke directly to Andrew, his hand gently stroking Annalise's back. Erik lowered his voice even more. "She has had nothing to eat. Most importantly, you must know and you must let the Vicomte," how easily that word came, "know that she was not raped. He will know what to do with that knowledge."

"It would not have mattered to me," Andrew whispered back.

"I doubt it will matter to her family," Erik hissed, "but her father will need to know and I trust him to know what to do with that knowledge." A small part of Erik's mind was amused that he would actully trust the Vicomte with anything. "Will you do as I have asked?"

Andrew nodded. "Yes."

"Good." Erik moved so that he could look at Annalise. He reached in to gently touch her face and smiled when he raised her head to look at him. "Annalise, my precious angel, Andrew is going to take you home to your parents and your brothers."

"No," Annalise said with a shake of her head. "No parents. No family. Brother dead. No home. No one loves me. Stay with you. Please."

Erik shook his head, seeing that Andrew drew Annalise even closer. "Oh, sweet child," Erik said, his heart aching for the broken girl before him, "your brother is alive."

"Real?" Annalise asked between sobs.

"Real," Erik replied. "I would never lie to you, yes?" He stroked her cheek as Annalise nodded at him. "Your other brothers miss you very much and your parents want you back desperately." He closed his eyes briefly before opening them. "They love you beyond words and without you there they are not complete. Your family is not complete. They need you with them as much as you need to be there."

"I just want to go home," Annalise told him.

"Then let me take you home," Andrew said softly to her, placing his head against hers.

"Home. Want to go home."

Erik kissed Annalise's forehead, allowing his lips to linger there for a moment before drawing back. "Go home, my sweet little angel," he said, looking up and nodding at Andrew before reaching in for another brief kiss. He was surprised when he felt Annalise's trembling hand on his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Something stirred deep within Erik as he looked at Annalise, seeing another piece of the child he had fallen in love with return to her blue eyes. "You're welcome." He looked back at Andrew. "Get her home."

Andrew nodded and took a deep breath, hoping that his shoulder would not pop out again. He took a firm hold on Annalise and stood, his breath exhaling as his shoulder held. "I shall let you know," he told Erik.

"I know you shall," Erik replied. "Now go!" He walked out the door with Andrew, giving Annalise a final gentle touch. He watched as Andrew carried her down the stairs and towards her freedom. Erik returned to the room where Michaud lay trussed on the floor. He glared back at the man on the floor glaring daggers at him. Now that Annalise and Andrew were gone there was nothing to prevent him from doing all the things he imagined.

"Let him go, Tomas," Erik said as once again he knelt by Michaud's side. Erik waited until Tomas had released the rope he held before aggressively flipping Michaud onto his back, caring little for the discomfort it inflicted upon the man whose arms and legs were bound to his neck. Erik moved so that he straddled Michaud's chest, staring down into the eyes that held a look Erik knew and despised.

"Monsieur," Tomas started and stopped, knowing there was nothing he could do but watch.

"I am going to break every bone in your miserable body," Erik hissed at Michaud. "Then I am going to cut your skin off in small pieces over days. I will keep you alive in agony and pain that you cannot even begin to imagine. I will enjoy your suffering like I have never enjoyed anything else in my life!"

There was something in the tone of Erik's voice that cut through the nothingness and the anger and the evil that controlled Michaud. He grew still and watched as Erik made a fist, drawing it back. Michaud closed his eyes and waited for the blow.

It was a blow that never came.

Erik's fist slammed into the floor next to Michaud's head. A scream escaped Erik's lips as he stood and stumbled to sag against a wall. Erik slammed his fist over and over into that wall. He could not hurt the monster who had broken his precious little angel. He knew it and he hated it. Erik also knew why he could not destroy Michaud in the manner in which he so desperately wanted - it was because of what Annalise had done to him. She had planted it within him, white-hot and burning, and Erik finally recognized it.

"Damn, damn, damn!" he shouted and grew silent for a moment before going back to where Tomas and Michaud were still on the floor. Erik kept his eyes on Michaud but addressed Tomas. "Do you still have your friends in England?"

"Aye," Tomas replied wondering what his strange friend was contemplating.

A strange smile curled Erik's lips as he spoke to Michaud. "I think that you should experience a little of what you did to Annalise."

The raised eyebrow, the dangerous glittering of the eyes and the evilly curled smile shook the emotions and the beings that controlled Michaud to the very core.


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Summary: A long carriage ride through a dark night leading to safety, family and home.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Andrew carefully cradled Annalise in his arms as he moved down the stairway in the darkened house; the last thing he needed or wanted was to trip and tumble down the stairs again. Her arms were wrapped tightly about his neck, her head resting against his heart and Andrew could feel Annalise trembling. He was frightened for her for he could feel her ribs even through the cloak in which she was wrapped. Andrew needed to get her back to her home where she would be safe and cared for and then he would allow his fears to claim him; now, though, he needed negotiate the remaining stairs to the door that beckoned so temptingly.

A light suddenly appeared in that doorway; Charles standing there, a lantern held high.

"Over here," Andrew called out.

Charles quickly moved to the bottom of the stairs, the light from the lantern giving Andrew what he needed to move easily through the dark.

"Thank you," Andrew said as he came to the bottom of the stairs.

"Aye," Charles said.

The unknown voice caused Annalise to strengthen her grip on Andrew. "Don't leave me with him," she pleaded her voice hoarse and raspy.

"I am not letting go of you," Andrew whispered back, kissing the top of the head that was trying to burrow into his chest. "I promise. I will not let you go until I give you to your father."

"Want to go home."

"We are on our way," Andrew said as he followed Charles out the door.

"Poor child," Charles said to himself as he stood on the portico lighting the way for Andrew.

Regine sat in the chaise, his hands tight around the reins of the two horses that snorted and tossed their heads in impatience. The horses that Andrew and Erik had ridden were tied to one of the pillars of the portico. Regine turned to look at the house as the light caught his eye. He watched as Andrew walked across the portico and down the few steps, stopping at the side of the chaise.

"Annalise," Andrew started, "I am going to need to let you go for a moment so I can put you in the chaise."

"No," Annalise told him. "You promised."

Andrew felt a hand at his back. He twisted his neck to see Charles behind him.

"Let me help," Charles said as he placed his hands beneath Andrew's elbows.

Regine transferred the reins he held to one hand, extending the other towards Andrew. "I'll not let you falter," he said.

"Hold tight," Andrew told the girl in his arms as he placed a foot on the bottom step of the chaise. He allowed Charles to assist him up the two steps and felt Regine's strong hand on his arm helping him to keep his balance. As Andrew stepped into the chaise, he turned around and sank gratefully into the velvet cushions. He looked at Charles. "Thank you," Andrew said.

"You're welcome," Charles said before returning to the house.

"I'll have you back to your parents before you know it, Mademoiselle," Regine said as he took a blanket from the floor, placing it over Annalise and Andrew.

"Want my mother," Annalise said.

"Soon," Andrew told her as he drew the cloak more tightly around her and adjusted the travelling blanket. He looked at Regine. "We need to draw as little attention as possible to ourselves once day breaks. I do not want her having to cope with anyone but her family."

"Lean back, try to sleep and trust the rest to me," Regine told Andrew. He waited until Andrew had positioned himself in the corner of the chaise and then Regine tapped the reins on the backs of Diana and Mercury; that was all it took for the two powerful horses to spring forward, speeding their way towards Paris and home for Annalise.

The chaise moved swiftly through the dark night, the road lit by the two lanterns on either side. Regine kept a strong, steady hand on the reins, guiding the horses swiftly over country roads and slowly through small villages. He knew when to give the horses their heads, letting them run free and when to pull back giving them respite, allowing them to regain strength and energy. As dawn began to color the sky, Regine slowed the chaise, guiding the horses into the yard of a small inn alongside the road that led to Paris. He laid a hand on Andrew's arm, careful not to disturb Annalise.

"Andrew," Regine whispered.

Andrew's eyes slowly blinked opened; he had fallen asleep once he felt Annalise's breathing slow and even out. "What? Where are we?"

"There are a few more hours until we reach Paris but I must water and feed the horses. We are at an inn I know and trust."

"I cannot take her in there." Andrew shook his head, keeping his voice low, hoping that Annalise would remain asleep.

A man was approaching the chaise; Regine noticed and held up a hand causing the man to stop. "I am not asking you to move but I am going to get some tea. The horses will be attended and you both must have something." He felt relieved as Andrew nodded and turned to the man waiting several meters from the chaise. Regine put a finger to his lips and waved the man over. "Pierre," he said as he extended his hand, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need to have the horses tended to and some tea for my passengers. They sleep, so please, softly."

Pierre looked at the shapes covered by the cloak and the blanket. "I shall get Sophie to bring tea and I will help you tend to the animals. Are you sure they do not wish to come in from the morning?"

The strange new voice startled Annalise awake. She raised her head, looking around in panic. "Andrew promised me," her voice strained and hoarse. "He said he would not leave me."

Andrew raised a hand to rest against Annalise's cheek.

"Don't hit me!" she cried, closing her eyes.

"Annalise, it's Andrew; I would never hurt you. Look at me." Andrew watched as Annalise focused on his face. "I love you. You are going to have something to drink and then I am going to take you home. I love you and I am not letting you go."

"Andrew," Annalise replied, opening her eyes. "Andrew," she sighed and settled back against his chest, "you are real."

Pierre watched the interaction between the two young people and shook his head. "I'll go and get Sophie," he told Regine. "Move the chaise to the stables."

Regine had seen the shake of Pierre's head. "Pierre, you know me. I am asking you to trust me. You and Sophie must not say anything about what you see this morning. I will come back and explain when I can but for now, please, trust me."

"I do trust you," Pierre nodded. "I do not understand but I do trust." He walked back to the small inn and Regine moved the horses towards the stables.

The moment Regine had stopped the chaise by the stables, Pierre was there, reaching out to hold the reins at the horses' heads. Regine hopped down, moving to the well where he pulled up a bucket of water, dumping it into the trough and repeating his actions two more times. Pierre let go of the reins and Diana and Mercury dipped their heads into the trough. As Pierre and Regine stood by the horses' heads, stroking their necks, a slightly round, older woman approached, a tray in her hands, a leather bag on her arm. The two men smiled at her and she cocked her head at them, raising an eyebrow.

"And what is all this mystery about?" Sophie wanted to know as she placed the tray on a barrel, handing the leather bag to her husband.

Pierre reached into the bag and began pulling out carrots and apples for the horses that raised their heads at the smell. He looked at his wife. "Treats for the animals?"

"They work hard," Sophie told him and picked up a steaming mug walking towards the chaise. "Excuse me," she said, "I was told you wanted something warm to drink." Sophie was not used to people who traveled in such expensive equipage hiding like common criminals.

Andrew looked at Sophie, saw the disapproving look and hoped the older woman would see the pleading in his eyes. "Please madam, we are in need of your help."

Another strange voice, another moment of panic for Annalise. "Andrew," she whispered, snaking her arms around his neck, "do not let me go. Please!"

Sophie's eyes widened as she took note of the bruised wrists. _"Ah, petite la pauvre."_ Sophie said as her expression softened. She approached the side of the chaise, extending the mug she held. "This should be of some comfort."

Andrew smiled his thanks as he removed an arm from about Annalise and took the mug from Sophie. "Annalise," he said softly. "I have some tea and I need you to take a sip." He felt Annalise shake her head against his chest. "If I have a sip first and show you that it is fine, will you have a sip then?"

Annalise raised her head, concentrating on Andrew's face and did not see the shocked look that crossed Sophie's face. "It will not make me sick?"

"I promise I will never do anything to hurt you," Andrew said as he raised the steaming mug to his lips and took a sip. "It will be fine. It will make you feel warm and comfortable. Please? For me?"

"Yes," Annalise replied in a trembling voice and took a small sip as Andrew held the mug for her. She closed her eyes as the warm liquid trickled down her sore and swollen throat. As Andrew tilted the mug towards her lips again, Annalise took her hands, placing them over his, giving him a brief, tiny smile.

Andrew sighed in relief.

The next thirty minutes were spent tending to the horses' needs - water, oats, carrots and apples. Pierre stayed close to the horses, checking their harnesses, feeling along their legs and checking their hooves. Sophie hovered near the side of the chaise, keeping a motherly watchful eye on the two young people huddled beneath cloak and blanket. Andrew kept Annalise close, letting her sip from the slowly cooling mug. As the daylight continued to grow stronger, Andrew could see the shape of fingerprints that were forming around Annalise's throat. Finally beginning to see just how mistreated Annalise had been, Andrew was grateful that Erik had extracted the promise from him not to kill Michaud. Andrew knew he would never have been able to look at and comfort Annalise if he had carried with him the guilt and anger for having killed another human being - no matter how evil that person may have been. All the while, Regine had been moving about the chaise, front to back and side to side.

'Thank you," Andrew said as he handed the mug back to Sophie. "I will not forget your kindness."

Sophie tossed her head but managed a smile, none-the-less. "It is what we do but you are welcome."

Andrew felt Annalise wrap her arms about his torso again, laying her head against his heart. He bent over and kissed the top of her head. "We shall be home soon; try and rest," he said, feeling her nod her head. Andrew settled back into the corner of the chaise once more and smiled at Sophie as she settled the travel blanket around his legs. Suddenly the light of the sun began to disappear; Andrew looked up to see a hood beginning to cover his head and Regine smiling at him from the side of the chaise.

"I told you no one would bother us," he said. "I have even covered up the family crest. No one will know to whom the chaise belongs and no one will be able to see you if you stay in the corner."

Andrew nodded, leaning back into the velvet cushions, feeling Annalise sigh. He watched as Regine settled into the seat next to him, taking the reins in his hands.

"I shall come back when I can," Regine said to Pierre and Sophie who stood near the chaise.

"Godspeed," Pierre told him as Sophie smiled.

Regine tapped the reins on the backs of the two horses. Andrew wrapped his arms protectively around Annalise and closed his eyes, knowing that within a few hours Annalise would be home in the arms of her family and he would be with Katherine.

As Regine gave the horses their heads, the coach gathered speed and raced towards Paris and the home where several family members sat in silence around the dining table, food untouched.

Jean-Paul shoved his chair back from the table, throwing his napkin down. "I cannot take this anymore!" he shouted.

Therese looked at her husband before returning her gaze to her plate. "Please, do not shout," she asked.

"What is it you would have me do?" he wondered.

"Not shout," his wife answered in a terse tone of voice.

"I am going to go out of my mind, if I do not do something!"

"Jean-Paul," Richard tried.

"I would appreciate it if you did not start in on me, as well," Jean-Paul addressed his brother.

Leonie leapt to her husband's defense. "Is it truly necessary to speak to your brother like that?"

"Leonie," Richard sighed as he placed hand over hers.

"No!" Leonie said fiercely. "He is not the only one who is angry and frustrated."

Therese looked up. "Do not speak of my husband in such a tone," she warned her sister-in-law.

"Therese," Jean-Paul told her, "I do not need my wife to fight my battles."

Therese whirled on her husband. "What do you need me for then?"

Before the disagreement could escalate into an argument, a stern voice could be heard from the dining room doors.

"What is the meaning of this?" Raoul wanted to know.

There was silence.

"I believe I asked a question. I am still the head of this family and I want an answer." There was still silence, no one able to face the man in the doorway. "Now!" Raoul demanded.

"It was nothing," Jean-Paul told his father. "A little disagreement that was getting out of control."

"Richard?" Raoul addressed his middle son. "Is this true?"

"More or less, sir," Richard replied. "It is the frustration that is wearing upon all of us." He caught his brother's eye and nodded before turning back to look at his father. "Jean-Paul and I would like to go and help again with the search."

"We can do nothing here and feeling utterly useless only adds to our frustration." Jean-Paul smiled at his wife. "We are also taking it out on our wives which is unforgivable." He felt a bit of relief wash over him as Therese smiled before lowering her eyes again.

"Do you truly believe you are the only ones in this household who are feeling useless and frustrated?" Raoul wondered aloud. "Do you?" There was no answer. "You are grown men and you are acting as if you were small children; I expect better from you. The last thing that anyone in this house needs to hear is your voices raised in anger. I expect you to remember who you are and behave accordingly." He turned to go and paused, looking back at the four silent people at the table. "If you wish to go and rejoin the search for your sister, by all means, go. Inspector Berube is to come later this morning with an update. I suspect he will welcome your help." Raoul turned and left the room.

He walked down the hall, stopping at the bottom of the staircase. Raoul ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. "I do not even know what I am doing anymore," he said to himself.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" a familiar female voice asked.

Raoul opened his eyes to see his wife standing on the last step. "I did not even know you were there."

"It seems to be a common occurrence lately," Christine said sadly, "but it is usually me who does not know when anyone else is around. I am sorry."

"No," Raoul replied as he shook his head. "There is nothing for which you must apologize. I, on the other hand, have been asking forgiveness for every real and imagined sin I have ever committed in my entire life. I believe I just added another; I yelled at our grown children."

"Raoul," Christine said as she finished descending the stair case, placing a hand on his arm, "you are the one person I know who has done very little for which you must ask forgiveness. I am the one who has committed great sins and needs to be forgiven."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"What have we become?" Raoul wondered.

Christine shrugged. "I do not know. I wish I did." She sighed. "As I came down the stairs, you were saying that you did not know what you were doing. Before you corrected our children, what is that you were planning on doing."

"There are still bills that must be paid, correspondence that must be answered." Raoul shook his head in disgust. "The world has not stopped just because our lives have."

Christine took her husband's arm. "Come, I will go with you to your study and perhaps, between the two of us, we can at least resolve a piece of mail or two."

Raoul kissed his wife. "I appreciate you more than you will ever know."

The next two hours were spent as Christine sorted through the mail piled on the desk in Raoul's study, handing him what she considered important, placing the other papers aside to be dealt with when they could both concentrate on what was before them. They walked out of the study at the end of those hours, addressed envelopes in hand, each feeling a comforting sense of normalcy in the simple act of paying debts. Raoul handed the letters to the man who always sat by the front door with instructions to see them delivered to the appropriate merchants.

"Shall we try to breakfast?" Raoul asked his wife.

"I heard voices as we passed," Christine said. "I believe all the children are in there."

"Time to apologize," Raoul sighed.

"And I shall be there to support you," Christine told him with a smile. "I will always be there," she said as she walked with him down the hall to breakfast with their family.

As they walked into the dining room, the missing member of their family was within twenty minutes of the gates to her home, the horses drawing the carriage slowing to a walk. Regine had pulled back on the reins as the chaise approached the populated area south of Paris. He had no desire to draw any attention to himself or his passengers as he encountered other traffic moving about as the population of Paris and its environs woke to a new day. Regine heard a soft sound and turned to see Andrew blinking his eyes.

"Another ten minutes," Regine told him softly.

"Thank God," Andrew sighed and felt the girl in his arms stir.

"Andrew?" Annalise asked, her voice now barely above a whisper.

"Shh, shh, shh," Andrew whispered back. "Just rest quietly."

Annalise settled back into Andrew's protective embrace.

Andrew tried to calm his nerves as familiar scenery moved passed the chaise. He failed as a set of gates came into view, Regine slowing the chaise. Andrew's racing heart fell as the chaise stopped at the closed gates, two men standing behind them. He had been warned that the house was guarded but it only added to Andrew's impatience; they were so close. So very close. Andrew moved his hand up to rest against the back of Annalise's head.

"What business do you have here?" One of the men behind the gates asked.

"My name is Regine Trombley and I am steward of the Vicomte's country estate." Regine answered. "I come on important business."

"Regine?" The other man squinted and moved closer to the gate. "What are you doing here?"

"Gilles," Regine kept his voice low so as not to frighten the girl in the chaise. "I have passengers in the chaise. Please open the gate!"

Andrew's impatience got the better of him and he sat forward, still holding tight to Annalise. "My name is Andrew Cameron and I am bringing Mademoiselle de Chagny home. Open the damn gates!" Andrew felt Annalise stir. "It is all right, rest for a few moments longer." Andrew felt Annalise grow still again.

Gilles looked in shock at Andrew; he had seen him ride through the gates before. He turned to the man next to him. "Quickly, fool! Open the gates!"

Regine kept a tight hand on the reins as the gates were swung open before letting the horses race down the drive. He pulled back to let Diana and Mercury turn the gentle curve in the drive and stop in front of the portico. The double doors to the house opened and a footman came out onto the portico, walking down the stairs. "Quickly!" Regine told him. "Summon the Vicomte."

The footman took one look into the chaise, seeing a familiar face and quickly disappeared into the house. He sprinted down the hallway and entered the dining room without knocking. Raoul and Christine looked up as he entered, unused to their servants behaving in such a manner. _"Pardonnez-moi, s'il vous plaît, Monsieur le Vicomte,"_ the breathless footman said. "Monsieur Cameron, Mademoiselle, they are out front."

The footman was nearly run over in the surge of people who rushed to get out the door.

Raoul and Christine were the first ones out the front door, followed quickly by the rest of their family; Gustave supported by Richard. Raoul knew the driver of the chaise.

"Regine, where is she?" he pleaded.

"In here," Andrew called from underneath the hood.

Raoul nearly jumped down the portico stairs. He stopped at the side of the chaise, feeling his wife at his side. "Andrew," he sighed in unbelievable relief, watching as Andrew and Regine removed the travel blanket. "Thank God." Raoul reached out to touch his daughter, drawing back as she flinched from his touch.

"You promised," Raoul heard the hoarse whisper to Andrew. "You promised not to leave me with him. You promised to take me home. Please do not let him take me again!"

Raoul could feel his heart breaking and reached out to cover the hand he felt on his arm, seeking some comfort from Christine.

"Annalise," Andrew said as he gently touched her chin, lifting her head so that she could look at him. "You are home. Your father and mother and brothers, they are all right here."

"They still want me?"

Christine heard her daughter's pained whisper and buried her head in Raoul's shoulder.

"They love you and they want you," Andrew said, leaning in to kiss Annalise's forehead. "I love you and I would never lie to you. You are home and your family is real and they want you. All you need to do is turn around. Yes?"

"Promise?" Annalise wondered.

"On my very life," Andrew reassured her.

Annalise turned her head to look at the man standing by the chaise. "Papa?" she wondered taking a hand to reach out to touch Raoul's chest.

Raoul and Christine both felt their hearts breaking as they saw their child for the first time in seven days, abuse evident in the bruises they could see. Raoul's arms reached out for his daughter. "Annalise," Raoul managed to get out through the tears he choked down.

Christine laid a hand over the one her daughter had placed on her father's chest. "My little baby." Christine did not try to stop her tears. "You have come back to me."

Annalise turned to look at her mother. "Maman?" She closed her eyes for a moment. "Real; you are real," she whispered as she opened her eyes again, letting go of Andrew, reaching for her father. "Papa," Annalise cried.

Andrew gratefully let go of Annalise as Raoul lifted his daughter into his arms, Christine wrapping her arms around both of them. Andrew watched as the rest of her family moved to encircle Annalise and he leaned back, a sigh escaping his lips as he heard a voice he had not expected.

"Andrew!" Katherine exclaimed as she touched his knee.

"Kitt!" He looked at his sister, tears streaming down her cheeks. Andrew reached out to touch her cheek. "Oh, Kitt."


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Summary: Andrew and Annalise are welcomed home by their families. Raoul and Christine begin to discover what was done to their child.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

"Is she all right?"

"Let me see her."

"Can I give her hug?"

Raoul and Christine were reluctant to release Annalise from their protective embrace. So intent were they on comforting the sobbing girl held like a small child in Raoul's arms that they barely heard the words coming from their sons; but Annalise heard the voices. New voices, new sensations, it was all too much for Annalise's battered psyche to process. Raoul felt his daughter's fingers pull at the back of his shirt.

"Please do not let him take me," Annalise begged. "Please, Papa. I promise to be a good girl."

"No one is ever going to take you away again," Raoul told his daughter as his eyes sought out Christine.

Christine stroked her daughter's head. "Oh, my little babe," she said softly and smiled as Annalise turned to look at her. "You are safe. There is no one here who will hurt you."

"I am so sorry. I will not disobey you again. Please do not send me away."

"Listen to me," Christine said as she cupped her daughter's face in both hands. "You have done nothing wrong. We love you." Christine felt the head in her hands begin to shake and leaned in to rest her forehead against her daughter's. "I love you. You are my little girl and I love you." Christine turned her attention to the sons and wives who waited impatiently within arm's reach. "Gustave," she motioned for him.

Gustave nodded at Richard. "I will be fine. I can do this on my own." Gustave took the few steps to his sister, letting his mother wrap her arm about his waist for support.

Annalise reached out a tentative hand to her brother and pulled it back, burying her head in her father's chest. "No," she whispered. "No. Not real. He said he killed him."

Raoul bit back the fury he felt and concentrated on the relief that surged through his veins instead. "Gustave is alive." Raoul stroked his daughter's arm. "He is right here."

"Annalise, please," Gustave said as he reached for his sister.

Annalise raised her head to look at her father. "Real?" she asked and as Raoul nodded to her, Annalise turned to look at her brother. "You are real," she breathed and leaned her head against Gustave's as he hugged her gently.

Gustave drew back, allowing Jean-Paul, Richard and their wives to hug Annalise.

Finally the determined mother in Christine took over. "We have to get her upstairs, Raoul," she said and turned to look at Therese and Leonie. "I will need your help."

Raoul turned to follow his wife into the house and gave a quick look at his sons. "Doctor, police, ambassador," he told them, trusting that they would know what to do. Raoul tightened his grip on his daughter and disappeared quickly into the house.

Jean-Paul turned to the stunned and silent footman who waited by the door. "Go to the stables," he began. "You must send three riders; one to summon Doctor Nesselien; one to the ambassador's residence to appraise them of what has occurred and one to Inspector Berube asking him to come now. When you return bring someone with you to take care of the chaise and the horses."

The footman nodded and went off towards the stables.

While his brother had been handling the instructions left by their father, Richard had moved to the chaise. He took the reins from Regine and tied them to a hitching post by the portico stairs before returning. "Thank you," he told Regine.

"I was glad to do it," Regine replied, "but I believe more of the credit belongs to Monsieur Cameron."

"Andrew," Andrew corrected him. "After all we have been through, it is just Andrew." Andrew tried to move forward on the seat and let out a small yelp of pain. He had not realized how stiff he had become.

"Oh my god," Katherine exclaimed as she bit her bottom lip. "Are you all right?"

Andrew breathed through his nose for minute, his eyes closed. "Do you remember the fall I took from Barton?"

"Oh no," Katherine despaired. "Not again."

Richard watched as Andrew nodded his head. "What not again?" he wondered.

Katherine looked across the chaise at Richard. "He has dislocated his shoulder." She raised concerned eyes to her brother.

"It's in, Kitt, it's in," Andrew assured her. "I had a fall down some stairs and I think my ribs might be bruised, though." Now that Annalise was safely in the hands of her parents, Andrew began to allow himself to feel again and all he could feel at the moment was pain. "Everything hurts," he said through clenched teeth.

Katherine felt a hand on her shoulder and looked to see Jean-Paul standing there.

"Let me help him, Katherine," Jean-Paul said.

Katherine stepped back and went to stand next to Gustave, giving him a small smile as he gently stroked her arm.

Jean-Paul looked at Andrew. "Can you get to your feet?" he asked.

"I do not think so," Andrew replied. "Everything is so stiff."

"Then give me your hands," Jean-Paul ordered and looked at Regine. "Can you steady his back?" Regine nodded at the young man. "Right, then. Andrew, on the count of three we shall go, yes?" Jean-Paul saw Andrew nod his assent. "One. Two. Three."

Jean-Paul gently pulled on Andrew's hands as Regine gave a slight push on his back and Andrew was on his feet. "Oh God," Andrew cried out the pain evident in his tone of voice. "Sorry," he said as his breathing evened out. "I think I can manage now."

"You have nothing for which to apologize," Jean-Paul told him, "and let me help you down the chaise steps. Then we will go inside and get you a brandy; it will help to ease the pain."

"One for you as well," Richard told Regine as the older man got down from the chaise.

"I do not belong ..." Regine started.

"I think my father would insist," Richard interrupted him. "I know that I am going to insist."

"As am I," Jean-Paul assured him as he helped Andrew negotiate the last step of the chaise. "You have helped to bring our sister home." He turned his attention to Andrew. "How did you know of Regine?"

"I will tell you everything, I promise," Andrew heard himself say knowing that there would be a part of it that he would never be able to share. Andrew looked at Regine, saw the incline of the other man's head and knew that he would not say anything, either. Andrew was drawn out of his reverie by his sister's voice.

"I know you are hurting but can I please hug you?" Katherine was asking.

"Oh, Kitt," Andrew said and felt his sister's arms go gently about him, her head on his shoulder, her tears wetting his shirt. There was such a sense of security and relief and love in Katherine's embrace that Andrew was reluctant to let her go. Since that awful moment seven days ago when his world had begun to fall apart, Andrew was starting to believe that just maybe it would be possible to put the pieces back together. "I will be fine," Andrew assured his sister as he kissed her.

Katherine drew back and gave her brother a trembling smile. "I know. I know. It is just that you did not come back and I got so scared ..."

"It will be all right, Kitt," Andrew interrupted her before the tears could start again. He turned his attention to Gustave. "Thank God you are alive," he sighed in relief. "You are going to be fine, yes?"

"I am getting better," Gustave assured him. "Now that Annalise and you are back, I will get better that much more quickly."

"Come," Richard said, "we need to get you both in the house and comfortable."

As Richard and Jean-Paul guided the others into the house and towards the main parlor, upstairs Christine was opening the door to her daughter's bedroom allowing Raoul to enter. Raoul walked over to the bed and tried to place Annalise down.

"Please do not let me go," Annalise cried as she clung to her father.

"What did he do to you?" Christine said to herself, her words mirroring her husband's thoughts.

"Did you need me, madam?"

Christine saw Rachel, her daughter's maid at her side. "Rachel, quickly, hot water for the bath and a pot of tea."

_"Oui, madame,"_ Rachel answered. "I am so very glad Mademoiselle is home."

Christine nodded, not trusting her voice, watching as Rachel moved quickly down the hall. She turned her attention back to the bedroom and saw Raoul sitting on the edge of the bed, Annalise still in his arms. Christine walked over to the dresser, picked up the rag doll that she and Raoul had reminisced over and went to sit next to her husband and daughter.

"Annalise," Christine said and smiled as her daughter looked at her. "You are home. This is your bedroom. There is no one here to hurt you."

"He said you did not want me," Annalise whispered through her tears.

"We will always want you," Raoul told his daughter. "We have wanted you since before you were even born. You are our child. You are the final piece of our family." Raoul lowered his voice. "You are my little girl and there is nothing in this world that would ever stop me loving you."

"Listen to your father," Christine told Annalise. "There is nothing that will ever stop us from loving you."

"Promise?"

"Oh my baby," Christine said as Raoul kissed his daughter on the top of her head, "with all my heart." Christine held out the doll. "Why do you not hold onto Eloise and let your father put you down."

Annalise released her grip around her father's neck, reaching out for the doll her mother held. She took it in her hands, looking at it curiously before holding it to her chest, her eyes closing. "Home," Annalise said.

"Raoul," Christine said, placing a hand on his arm and getting his attention. "You need to leave."

"What?" Raoul was slightly stunned. "Why?" he wondered.

"I need to get her out of that thing and get her comfortable. Please?" Christine asked. "I will send for you as soon as she is ready." Christine laid a hand on her husband's arm. "Then you can stay as long as you wish."

Raoul closed his eyes and nodded. He was fine with letting his daughter out of his arms but to walk away and leave her - when she had just come home - terrified him. Part of him knew it was a silly fear, that Annalise was safe with her mother; but the largest part of him could not get past the thought that if he looked away, Annalise would disappear again. Raoul did not think he would be able to maintain any sense of dignity or self-control if his little girl were to slip through his grasp again.

"Please, Raoul," he heard his wife try again.

"Be fine," a whispery voice said as Raoul felt a hand on his cheek.

"I know, I know," Raoul told Annalise as he opened his eyes and looked at her. The bruises on her face and throat, the tears on her cheeks broke his heart. All Raoul wanted to do was to make everything go away for his little girl and he knew he could not do so. The best he could do at the moment was to leave her care to the only person in the world who had never failed him. Raoul gently lifted his daughter from his lap and placed her on the bed. He stood, bent over and kissed her. "I will be back in a few moments." Raoul gave a happy sigh as Annalise nodded and managed a small smile. "I love you," he told her before straightening up, turning to Christine and wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I love you, too."

Christine nodded. "I will send someone for you." She watched as he walked out the door, giving one last glance backwards before closing the door behind him. Christine drew a deep breath, there was finally something useful she could do. "Leonie, can you prepare the bath? I do not want anyone walking through this room." Christine saw her daughter-in-law disappear through the double doors on the right side of the room. "Therese, in the middle drawer of the wardrobe you should find a new chemise." Orders having been given, Christine sat on the bed next to her daughter who was intent on caressing the old doll in her hands. _"Mon peu de sprite,"_ she began and sighed inwardly as Annalise turned to look at her, the use of her childhood nickname bringing a bit of life into Annalise's eyes. "Oh, it so good to have you back with us again; you were missed so very much."

"Really?" Annalise wondered.

"More than you will ever know," her mother replied. Christine placed gentle hands on her daughter's arms. "I would like to get you out of this thing you are wearing ..." Christine could not finish her sentence as Annalise pulled away from her and scooted across the bed.

"No!" Annalise tried screaming and broke into a coughing fit. She looked warily at her mother as the coughing stopped. "He will hurt me. You will hit me. I promise I can make it work. I will be good. Just do not hurt me. Please do not hit me!" Annalise raised her doll to her face in an attempt to hide.

The terror and confusion on her daughter's face and her frantic actions shattered Christine in depths of her being that she did not even know existed. "It is all right, Annalise," Christine said as she got off the bed and cautiously walked around to where Annalise was trying to curl into a little ball. "I will not make you do anything that you do not want to do." Christine reached out to brush the hair away from her daughter's face. "It is Maman and you know that I would never ever hurt you."

Annalise looked up at the woman bent over her, her bottom lip between her teeth. "Maman?" she wondered.

"Yes," Christine replied with a smile, as she concentrated on her daughter's needs, unaware of the other two people moving about the room. "Maman. You are home and safe and no one will ever hurt you again."

Her frantic breathing slowed and Annalise started to uncurl her body. "Real," she breathed. "I am home. I am home."

"This is real," Christine assured her daughter, "and you are home." She helped Annalise into a sitting position. "Would like to have a hot bath and go to bed?"

"Alone?" Annalise asked.

_Oh, my sweet child! What did he do to you?_ Christine thought yet again but gave her daughter a small smile. "Yes," she told Annalise, "it will be just you and me. It shall be like when you were small and would play all day in the bath if I had let you do so."

Annalise nodded. "Yes. Just you and me."

Christine helped her daughter stand, placing a protective, supportive arm about her waist. She looked at Leonie and Therese who stood nearby, the tears on their faces matching her own. "Can you prepare in here?"

"Of course," Therese assured her.

Christine finally heard a soft knock at the door as she walked her daughter into the bath; she heard Leonie's voice as she close the door, "Place it on the bed table, Rachel."

"Just the two of us," Christine smiled at her daughter as they stood in the sunny room, the scent of lavender filling the air.

"It smells pretty," Annalise whispered.

"Only the best for my little girl," Christine told her as she guided Annalise over to the tub. She watched her daughter's face as Annalise eyed the water with apprehension. _"Cherie,_ if you do not wish to do this, we do not have to do so."

Annalise bent over and placed a hand into the warm water, swishing it about. She stood and looked at her mother. "Feels nice," she said and lowered her eyes. "You will not yell at me."

"I am not going to yell at you, I promise." Christine placed a hand under her daughter's chin, lifting her head so she could look at her. "There is nothing - nothing! - that would ever make me angry with you or make me raise my voice to you or stop me from loving you."

Annalise reached out and placed her doll on a nearby sideboard; she held her hands out to her mother. "Help me, please."

Christine reached out and slowly lifted the soiled gown from her daughter's body. "Oh my baby," she cried as she saw the bruises the speckled her daughter's flesh, the ribs that rippled outwards from a painfully thin body.

"I tried to be good," Annalise said as she broke into tears.

Christine gathered her daughter into her arms. "You are good," she whispered over and over as Annalise sobbed on her shoulder. Christine gently rubbed her daughter's back as Annalise choked and coughed. She finally felt her daughter's sobs slow and quiet into silent tears. "Come along, Annalise; let us wash away some of the sorrow."

Annalise allowed her mother to keep her hand as she carefully stepped into the warm, scented water of the bath; she gave a small cry as the water hit the cuts and bruises about her ankles. Christine kept a steady arm about her daughter's waist, waiting for a sign that Annalise wished to stop. It did not come and Annalise let Christine lower her so that she sat in the tub. She gave a small sigh as the clean water rippled around her, warming aching muscles.

Christine knelt by the side of the tub, just as she had done when Annalise was a small child. "I am going to try and clean your hair. You just sit still and let me do everything."

It took twenty minutes of gentle washing and combing before the tangled rat's nest that had become Annalise's hair was brought under control. Christine ran the comb through it one last time as it hung wetly down her daughter's back. She placed the comb on the floor next to the pile of hair that had come away from Annalise's head. Christine picked up the cloth that hung over the edge of the tub and began to gently clean her daughter. She was careful of the bruises but could not help the pain the warm water caused when it hit the cuts and rope burns around Annalise's wrists.

"I asked him to take them off," Annalise said. "I asked him to stop."

Christine placed a kiss on her daughter's head. "It is all right. You did nothing wrong." Christine could feel an anger she never knew build within her - what had that man done to her child? She bit the anger back as she placed the cloth back over the edge of the tub. "I am going to stand and help you out now, yes? You let me do everything."

Annalise looked up at her mother and held out her hands. "Yes."

Christine helped Annalise up and held tight as she climbed out of the tub. Christine moved quickly to wrap her daughter in a large towel. She moved it gently up and down Annalise as she dried wet skin. "I do not think your hair will dry quite so easily," Christine said with a smile and was rewarded with a little smile in return. She reached to the sideboard where the doll rested on a folded blue chemise. Christine lifted the doll from the gown. "Arms, please," she told Annalise and slipped the gown easily over her daughter's head and handed her the doll.

"Thank you," Annalise said as Christine gathered her into her arms.

"You are very welcome," her mother replied and slipped an arm about her waist. "I think it is time to get you some tea and then to bed." She rested a hand against her daughter's wet head. "And try to dry some of that hair."


	36. Chapter THirty Six

Chapter Summary: As Andrew's injuries are assessed, he finds he must answer Raoul's questions. One particular answer stuns Raoul. The doctor arrives to treat Annalise.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

The library was a warm, comforting place paneled in a rich cherry wood. Shelves made of the same glowing wood lined the walls and held volumes of leather bound books whose smell filled the room. A marble fireplace sat in the middle of one wall, leather wing chairs on either side, a matching sofa facing it. Other chairs were scattered about the room - around tables, beneath the windows, in a quiet corner. Occasional tables sat near the chairs, bric-a-brac and books adorning their tops. Bright mid-morning sunlight filtered in through the large window that overlooked the expanse of the front lawn and winked off the crystal in the open liquor cabinet.

Jean-Paul poured rich amber cognac into two crystal snifters, closed the door of the cabinet and turned back to the expanse of the library. He saw Andrew seated on the sofa, his sister next to him, Richard bending over them both. Gustave was seated in one of the wing chairs. Regine stood near the windows, his back to the room.

"You need to let me take a look at those ribs," Richard was saying.

Andrew cradled his right arm, beginning to appreciate just how long he had been sitting still, holding Annalise; his arm was nearly numb, his back muscles twitched with every movement and each breath sent deep dull pain throughout his chest. "I know they are bruised," Andrew said through teeth clenched against the pain. "I really do not think you need to see them." He felt a hand on his arm.

"Andrew, please," Katherine asked him. "Let him see. I promise not to look."

"Kitt," Andrew shook his head.

"Please?" His sister tried again. "For me?"

"All right, yes," Andrew relented and looked at his sister, "but you must close your eyes." He waited until Katherine had closed her eyes and then he let go of his arm and allowed Richard to open his shirt.

"Oh God!" Richard exclaimed. "It was not the fall; you've been kicked."

"What?" Andrew looked down and saw a bruise in the shape of a footprint coloring his chest. "Damn him anyway." He suddenly remembered his sister was sitting next to him and turned his head to look at her; she had her eyes open and they were wide and frightened. "Kitt, I am sorry. I did not mean to curse in your presence."

"What kind of a man does something like that?" Katherine did not hear him.

Andrew quickly drew his shirt closed. "The same kind of man that abducts a young girl.

Katherine reached out to touch his head. "Did he do this as well?"

"I had forgotten about that," Andrew confessed as he finally began to feel the pounding in his head.

Richard leaned in. "It looks like a ..." he stopped as Andrew shook his head. "Like it probably happened during the fall."

"It must have," Andrew gratefully replied; he did not want his sister knowing he had been shot. "I am bruised and sore but I will be fine, Kitt. I promise."

"I know," Katherine assured him. "I know."

"Take this," Jean-Paul said and handed the snifter to Andrew.

"Thank you," Andrew said and took a sip, feeling the amber liquid burn its way down his throat before reaching his stomach, sending out fingers of warmth to every inch of his body. He turned to look at Gustave. "Are you sure you are well?"

Gustave nodded his head. "Yes, the doctor has assured me that I am doing well. The bullet did not damage anything vital but I still have a way to go." He leaned back in his chair. "Now that Annalise is home I think I shall recover that much more quickly."

Jean-Paul had walked over to hand the other snifter to Regine. "Drink this."

"I do not need anything," Regine replied.

"To make me happy?" Jean-Paul asked.

"Yes," Regine took the snifter, "and thank you."

"No," Jean-Paul said with a shake of his head. "I need to thank you. I have fond memories of your patience with us as children riding the horses. Now you have helped to bring my sister back. You are a decent and good man and I do not know how we will ever be able to thank you."

"I only did what any man would do," Regine replied, taking a sip of the brandy and returning his gaze to the world outside the library.

"How did Andrew know who you were or where to find you?" Jean-Paul wondered.

"I have the same questions," Raoul said as he entered the library.

"Annalise?" Richard wondered.

"Your mother is making her comfortable and will let us know when she has finished." Raoul sighed. "It is the best thing for your sister at the moment; she needs her mother. My orders?"

"Riders have been sent, sir," Jean-Paul answered.

Raoul gave his son a brief smile. "Well done," he said. "I would like everyone to have a seat." He waited until everyone was seated in the chairs around the fireplace before going to stand against it so that he could look at them all.

"I will leave if you would like," Katherine offered.

"No," Raoul told her. "I would not ask you to leave your brother just yet." He managed a brief smile as Katherine reached out to hold her brother's hand; Raoul turned his attention to Andrew. "Where was she?"

"There was a house," Andrew began with a shake of his head. "I am not sure of the exact location."

"Regine?" Raoul turned his attention to his steward.

"It was located on a country lane off a road between Clamency and Toucy. It appeared to be deserted." Regine replied. "It was not easy to find."

"I see. Where is that man now?" Raoul could still not bring himself to say the name.

Gustave glowered. "Tell me you killed him. Just tell me you killed him."

"I am not normally a blood-thirsty individual," Richard chimed in, "but that is one person I would not mind seeing dead."

There was an awkward silence wherein Andrew kept his eyes averted. Raoul watched him before turning his attention to Regine, a man who he had known for over thirty years. Regine, too, had his eyes averted. Raoul studied them both quietly for a moment. "Where is he?" Raoul asked again.

"I do not know where he is," Andrew replied truthfully.

"What?" Jean-Paul was astonished. "You do not know where he is? What if he was to come after Annalise again?"

"How could you let him go?" Gustave was open-mouthed.

"You do not understand," Andrew said as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"There was a fight," Regine began. "I heard the noise and went into the house in time to see Andrew tumble down the stairs. I chased a figure up the stairs and overpowered him. I found Mademoiselle and felt it was more important to bring her home and to help Monsieur Cameron."

"Do not lie for me," Andrew interjected. He opened his eyes and sat up, wincing as muscles protested the movement. "I am holding another's confidence and I will not betray this person. I can promise you that Michaud Deschene will never again pose a threat to Annalise or anyone else."

"Leave us," Raoul said softly. He saw Regine from the corner of his eye. "You will please stay, Regine."

Andrew shook his head. "Sir, he does not know anything. He was gracious enough to come to our aid but what you need to know, you will only be able to get from me."

"Fine," Raoul replied. "Everyone but Andrew will leave this room." He watched as Katherine leaned in to kiss her brother before she walked out with his sons and Regine. Raoul waited until the library door closed before going to sit next to Andrew. He studied the young man's face, watching as Andrew worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "I know you are holding a confidence but I need to know what happened to my daughter. Plus I think it best you speak to me before the gendarmes arrive looking for the same answers. My name and my money carry some weight and may be of use with the authorities. I would not see you dragged into court to answer questions before the public."

"Thank you, sir," Andrew replied. He gathered his wits and courage about him before continuing. He turned to look at Raoul. "I do know some of what was done to Annalise. I was told you needed to know that Annalise had nothing to eat for Michaud kept her drugged with laudanum the entire time. I believe the exact words used were "heavily drugged". I was told that she will begin experiencing drug withdrawal and that it will be very hard on her." Andrew sighed; he found relaying the message and saying the words made him ill. "He also kept her bound one night …" A sip of the liquid fire. "… outside in the rain."

"That ..." Raoul closed his eyes in pain. "My poor little girl. How could he do that to her? Why would he do that?"

"Sir, there is something else you need to know."

"I do not know that I wish to hear this," Raoul told Andrew. "I do not know if I can bear to have more images in my mind of my daughter in distress."

Andrew shook his head. "It is not what you think."

"You do not know the depths to which my thoughts have sunk this past week," Raoul replied.

"I was told to tell you that Annalise was not ..." Andrew struggled with saying the actual words to the father of the woman he loved. "That he did not ..." Andrew felt a hand on his arm.

"Thank you," Raoul breathed. "That is one less image my mind will hold." He sat quietly for a moment coming to grips with his emotions and studying the young man sitting next to him. "When Annalise first went missing, my wife told me to spare no expense to bring her child home. I assure you, I followed her request - no expense spared, every cooperation given. There was nothing that was not done to aid the gendarmes in their search for Annalise. Yet you, who have been in our country but a few months managed to find my child and bring her home." Raoul shook his head. "I am having trouble understanding this. I know you hold a confidence but answers will need to be given and I cannot aid you if I do not know the truth."

"I was was never told I could not tell," Andrew said almost to himself, his brow furrowed in thought. He turned his head so that he could look at Raoul. "I just do not know how you will take what I must say."

A sickening thought began to take root in the back of his mind but Raoul ignored it and leaned back into a corner of the sofa, folding his hands in his lap. "I promise to sit still and do nothing but listen."

Andrew kept hold of the brandy snifter, staring into the depths of the glowing amber liquid. "I saw Gustave shot and Annalise taken. I was riding behind and could do nothing to stop what happened. Gustave sent me after the coach and I did as he asked. I managed to keep the coach in sight for some time but could not reach it as four horses drew the coach. I saw the hatch of the coach open and I drew up short but the bullet still managed to graze my head. It was then that I lost sight of them." Andrew took a sip of the brandy and was silent for a moment as the liquid fire moved through him. "I did not know what else to do so I kept riding. It was very dark and I had been riding for a very long time when I came to a crossroads. I was praying for guidance when I remembered something that Katherine had told me about Annalise and I knew where I needed to go."

Raoul could feel the nausea begin in his stomach but he willed it away.

"It was the morning by the time I found what I had been seeking. I am afraid I made quite a spectacle of myself by barging into a private home but I had not slept and I was beyond caring. The person at this home agreed to help and sent a man to find what information there was to be had. It was several days before that man came back. He was the one who knew of Regine and went to request his assistance. It was only to be the use of the chaise and the horses but I understand that Regine insisted on being the one to handle the horses." Andrew took another sip of the brandy. He knew it was liquid courage but he was in pain, tired beyond what he had ever thought possible and trying desperately to keep Erik's secret. "The person that I went to for help is the one who currently has custody of Michaud. and I am sure he will ensure that Michaud will never be able to reach Annalise again."

There was a silence in the room. Andrew could not lift his eyes to look at Raoul. It was Raoul who finally broke the silence.

"How did this man who went to Regine know of him?" There was no answer. "Andrew?"

Andrew finally lifted his eyes to look at Raoul. "Please do not ask me that," Andrew replied and watched as the color drained from Raoul's face.

_"Un cher dieu dans le ciel, il était lui!"_ Raoul exclaimed. "Dear God in heaven, it was him!" he repeated as he stood, walking towards the fireplace.

"I do not know ..." Andrew began and was silenced as Raoul turned back from the fireplace to face him.

"Do not lie to me now," Raoul told him in a soft tone of voice that commanded attention. "There is a sketch of a man in my daughter's book. There is a letter to go with that sketch. I know who it was that my daughter drew; I know!" Raoul's voice dropped on the last word and he looked as if he were in pain. "God! He must have been watching all these years! He never left us alone and now he is the one to save my daughter?" Raoul shook his head. "How he must be enjoying the irony of all this; he abducts my wife and rescues my child from an abductor." Raoul's brows knitted. "How am I going to tell Christine?" he whispered almost to himself before turning his attention back to Andrew. "This person whose confidence you hold," Raoul paused for a moment as he swallowed, trying to speak the name, knowing it was true but still praying it was not. "This person - is his name Erik?"

Andrew found he could not look at Raoul, so he took another sip of the burning liquid courage before raising his eyes. "Yes," he replied simply.

That one word answer caused emotions to flood through Raoul that he could not even begin to name. "Where does he live?"

"Sir ..." Andrew tried.

"Where?" Raoul demanded his voice sharper then he intended. Raoul returned to the sofa to sit next to Andrew. "You know the history, do you not?" Andrew nodded his head. "I see," Raoul gave a heavy sigh. "I will not do anything to him. God! I am in his debt!" Raoul's voice sounded amazed. "But I must know where he lives. I need to know how my daughter knows him."

"There is a ruined monastery," Andrew began.

"Up the hill from the estate," Raoul finished and laughed - it was a strange, lost sound. "All these years! All these years and he has been the strange hermit, the man the villagers whispered about. Why did I not see? How could I not have known?" Raoul ran a hand through graying, sandy blonde hair. "What a fool I have been."

What Andrew might or might not have said was forestalled by a knock on the door.

"Enter," Raoul called out and Richard opened the door. "What is it?" Raoul wondered.

Richard wondered at the pained looks on the faces of both his father and Andrew but did not say anything. "Monsieur Nesselien is here."

Raoul stood and looked at Andrew. "We will finish this later," he said in a tense tone and relented at the worried look on Andrew's face. "Andrew, I am not going to do anything to him and you are in no trouble with any member of this family. I will do whatever I can to aid you with the authorities and I will keep your confidence," Raoul managed a small smile, "and the moment Annalise asks for you, I shall let you know."

His words lifted a great fear from Andrew and he let out a long breath. "Thank you," Andrew said and watched as Raoul walked from the room, the people gathered at the door coming back in with more questions that he knew he would have to answer while protecting Erik. Andrew knew he could not do it alone and was grateful for Regine's presence even as his thoughts drifted towards the doctor he knew would be tending to Annalise.

At that very moment, the doctor was at the bottom of the grand staircase watching as Raoul approached. He extended his hand as Raoul drew near. "Thank God, she is alive and home," Dominic said.

"You echo my sentiments," Raoul replied with a slight nod of his head.

"Has she been hurt? Is that why you sent for me?"

Raoul bit the inside of his lip as he attempted to keep his raging emotions under control. He guided Dominic halfway up the stairs where they paused and their voices could not be heard. "Annalise was ... it looks like ..." Raoul exhaled a long breath through his nose. "I believe he may have beaten her."

"There is something else is there not?" Dominic asked, knowing the looks that passed over the face of his friend of nearly twenty-six years. He felt his own anger growing for he despised the mistreatment of any living being but Dominic kept the composure his profession required of him.

"I was told that she has had nothing to eat since she was taken and that she was left outside in the rain. I understand he also kept her heavily drugged with laudanum."

Dominic shook his head; he did not think he could still be amazed at the cruelty humans were able to inflict upon each other. "Drug withdrawal." He laid a hand on Raoul's arm. "It will not be easy on Annalise or anyone else in this household. Take me to her and I will be able to give you a better idea of her condition and what will lie ahead."

"Dominic," Raoul said, "Annalise is confused. She does not seem to know what is real and what is not. I do not know how she is going to react to you."

"It is the drug," Dominic replied, "and, perhaps, the man who did this said things to her to add to the confusion."

"How I wish I could get my hands on that bastard!" Raoul muttered through clenched teeth.

Dominic wanted to know exactly what had occurred but his first concern was for his patient. "I believe, as a parent of two daughters, I understand your emotions. For the moment, though, I would like to see my patient."

Raoul swallowed. "There is one last favor I must ask of you."

"Whatever I can do," Dominic replied.

"I know you need to see Annalise but I am asking you to keep your examination as simple as possible."

"Raoul," Dominic whispered. "I know how to do my job. I will do nothing to hurt your daughter."

"No," Raoul said with a shake of his head. "You do not understand. The man who saved Annalise," Raoul paused, shaking his head, still having trouble grasping the fact that it was the one man in the world he held such mixed emotions about that had saved Annalise. He swallowed and continued. "This man said she was not raped." The very sound of that word on his lips sent a chill through Raoul that he did not think he would ever be able to warm. "I have reason to trust his word." Raoul could scarcely believe the words he spoke. "Dominic, please," Raoul pleaded. "She has been through so much. I do not want to see her in further distress. Please."

There was a moment of silence before Dominic nodded his head. "I see that you trust the word of this unnamed man who returned Annalise." He gave Raoul a small smile. "I will do nothing to cause Annalise any further pain and should the authorities ask, I will tell them what you told me - she was not touched."

A great weight suddenly lifted from Raoul's heart. "Thank you," he breathed. "Come, Annalise is in her room with Christine."

The two men climbed the stairs, turning left at the top and walking down the hall to where Rachel patiently waited outside a closed door. She dropped a small curtsey as the two men approached and knocked lightly on the door for them. Leonie stuck her head out, smiled and closed the door again. When the door reopened, Christine stood there.

"Dominic," she said with a sigh. "Thank you for coming so promptly."

"I do not believe I have ever responded quite so quickly to any request," Dominic told her.

"How is Annalise?" Raoul asked before Dominic could.

Christine looked at her husband, the worry in her eyes reflected in his. "I wish I knew," Christine told him. "She is so confused. I have just convinced her that it is safe to lie down and that Leonie and Therese will not hurt her. It frightens me how lost she has become."

"My sweet little girl," Raoul whispered.

"I need to get back to her," Christine said.

Dominic looked at Raoul. "Give me a few moments and I will let you know how she is doing."

"Come," Christine said to Dominic as she gave her husband a wavering smile before disappearing into their daughter's room.

Raoul sank into one of the chairs in the hall, closing his eyes, as Leonie and Therese came out of Annalise's bedroom. They walked over to him as Rachel closed the door. Raoul felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Leonie asked.

Words failed him as Raoul finally allowed the relief and anger and grief he had been suppressing, the shock at learning it was Erik who had saved his child, to wash over him. He buried his head in his hands and let the dry sobs come.


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Summary: As the doctor tends to Annalise, Raoul struggles to find the words to tell Christine her Angel saved their child. Andrew and Regine also find themselves struggling with their words to Inspector Berube as they try to keep The Phantom's name out of what happened and themselves out of custody.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

"Annalise," Christine said as the bedroom door closed and she walked over to sit on the bed where her daughter was curled beneath light linen bedding.

"Maman?" came the worried, whispered reply as a head peeked out from the sheets.

Christine gently stroked her daughter's head. "Yes, it is Maman." She smiled as Annalise focused on her face. "There is someone here to see you."

Annalise looked from her mother to the man waiting by the door. "No!" she squeaked and burrowed back under the sheets. "Andrew promised. He said I could go home. Do not let him take me away! Please, I promise to be good."

"Annalise, I am your mother and I promise you that no one will ever take you away again," Christine said with the patience only a mother knows. She laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder only to feel Annalise move further away. "No one is going to hurt you." A head once again came out from under the sheets; Annalise looked at her mother with fear and uncertainty. Christine smiled at her. "Annalise, I am going to make you a promise and you must believe me when I tell you this thing." There was no response. "Yes?"

"Yes," Annalise said nervously.

"No one," Christine said emphatically as she laid a hand on her daughter's cheek, "no one is ever going to hurt you or take you away again. I will not allow it to happen. If there is anyone who wants to get near to you, they will have to get past me and your father."

"Papa?"

"Papa," Christine sighed. "Do you believe me?" Christine held her breath as she watched Annalise study her face, seeing fear warring with longing. She finally drew a breath as Annalise nodded her head. "Thank you, my sweet. Now, I want you to know that the man by the door is Doctor Nesselien. Do you remember him? He is your doctor and fixed your runny noses when you were small. You were always such a good girl for him that he would give you little sweets. Remember?"

"I was a good girl," Annalise replied, a cross between a statement and a question.

"You were always a good girl," Christine told her and smiled a bit more broadly as Annalise slowly began to emerge from her linen cocoon. "Doctor Nesselien would like to just look at you to ensure that you are not ill. Can you let him do that?"

"You will not let me go?"

"I will not let you go." Christine sat on the bed and waited as Annalise moved next to her, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist. Christine draped one arm protectively about her daughter's shoulders and motioned for the doctor to come over.

Annalise eyed the newcomer warily and tightened her hold on her mother.

"Hello, Annalise," Dominic said softly as he approached, moving slowly and cautiously so as not to frighten the girl on the bed. He gave a quick appraisal of Annalise's overall condition and there was no doubt that she had been beaten. Annalise's movements let him know that she had no broken bones. Dominic glanced at the burns and cuts about her wrists and knew he would need to dress them. "I would like to feel your forehead so that I may see if you are running a temperature," Dominic told Annalise. "May I do that?"

Annalise looked to her mother.

"It will be fine," Christine assured her.

Annalise turned back to the doctor. "You will not hit me?" she worried.

"Your mother will not permit me to do any such thing," Dominic told her and gave Annalise a small smile as she nodded at him. He reached out and laid a hand against her forehead, drawing it away as he felt her begin to tremble. "Thank you. Would you be able to sit up for me so that I can look at your throat?"

"I am frightened," Annalise whispered, turning to her mother. "I think he tried to kill me."

Christine hugged her daughter. "I will be right here, my babe."

Annalise still was not sure.

"If I promise to only use one hand and keep the other in my pocket?" Dominic tried. He waited as Annalise moved her legs from underneath the sheets and swung them over the edge of the bed. Dominic noticed that Christine kept her arm protectively about her daughter and Annalise kept her hands wrapped around her mother's free one. He carefully placed a hand in his pocket and gently felt the swollen tissues of Annalise's throat. "Does it hurt to swallow?" he asked.

"Yes," Annalise told him. "I sound funny."

Dominic looked down her throat as Annalise opened her mouth for him. He smiled at her as he straightened. "I think you are going to sound funny for some time longer. The swallowing and any difficulty in breathing should ease as the bruising disappears and the swelling goes down." Dominic bent over, reaching into his medical bag, pulling out a stethoscope. "I would like to listen to your lungs if may?"

"Where?" Annalise wondered.

Dominic laid a hand on his chest. "I need to listen to them here," he told her.

Annalise tried to pull away from her mother "No, no, no," she cried breaking into sobs that gave way to deep coughs.

Christine drew her daughter closer as Annalise buried her head in her mother's shoulder. "Annalise, what is wrong?" She watched as her daughter shook her head. "Annalise, I am your mother and I am not going to let anyone do anything to you that you do not wish." When Annalise did not move, Christine leaned in so that she could whisper in her daughter's ear. "Can you tell me why you do not want the doctor to listen to your lungs?" There was no answer. "Annalise, I am not going to let anyone hurt you."

"Maman," came the pained whisper, "he had his hands there and he tried to ... he tried to ..." Annalise cried silently into her mother's shoulder.

More pieces of her heart breaking at her daughter's words, Christine bit back her own tears. "It is all right," she whispered as she stroked Annalise's hair. She raised her eyes to Dominic and shook her head slightly.

Dominic gave Christine a slight nod of acknowledgement and put his stethoscope bag into his bag. "Annalise, I will not listen to your lungs. I would, though, like to put something on those cuts on your wrists and ankles to make them feel better."

"It will feel better?" Annalise asked as she looked at the doctor from the corner of her eye.

"I promise," Dominic replied and reached into his bag for the salve and bandages he always kept there. He worked slowly and cautiously so as not to upset his patient any more than was necessary. He could feel Annalise tremble as he worked the creamy substance into the wounds around her wrists and ankles. Dominic took extra care as he wound the bandages around the cuts and burns, not pulling them too tightly, watching the tears fall down Annalise's cheeks the entire time. "You are an incredibly brave young lady," Dominic told her as he stood.

"I am?" Annalise asked as she looked at him.

"Yes, you are." Dominic replied. "Now, may I borrow your mother for a few moments if I promise to give her back to you."

Annalise bit her bottom lip, her chin trembling. "Will you let her come back?"

Christine turned her daughter's face so that she could look at her. "I will be back, I promise." She gave Annalise a slight smile. "Would you like to see your brothers? I am sure they would like to see you. I can leave Therese here with you and have Leonie fetch them."

"I would like that." Annalise grew silent. "Where is Andrew? He said he killed him and I saw him on the floor and ..."

"Andrew is downstairs, my dear," Christine interrupted her before Annalise could panic. "He is with his sister and I promise that the doctor will see Andrew."

"May I see Katherine, too?" Annalise asked like a small child.

"I am sure that Katherine would like that. I will have her come up to say hello and when the doctor finishes with Andrew, I will bring him to you. Yes?"

"Yes," Annalise told her mother as she let Christine help her back to bed.

Christine tucked the sheets around her daughter and bent over to kiss her. "I will send Therese in; you try to rest." She walked across the room with Dominic, opened the door and called to Therese and Leonie. Christine turned back to see Annalise settle onto the bed as Therese entered the room. Christine gently closed the door behind her and turned to Leonie. "Can you please get my sons and Katherine? Annalise would like to see them but one at a time and tell them to be calm and quiet. They must do nothing to frighten her."

"I shall go at once," Leonie said happily.

"How is she?" Raoul wondered as he finally looked up from the chair where he sat.

"We must talk," Dominic told him.

Christine opened the door next to the chair where Raoul sat. "We can speak in here without interruption." Dominic entered the sitting room. Christine stopped Raoul as he entered. "Are you all right?"

"No," Raoul told her; it was the truth.

Christine sighed and closed the door behind her husband, reaching out for his hand as they faced the doctor.

"How bad is it?" Raoul wanted to know.

"You were right; she was beaten," Dominic said with a shake of his head, watching as Raoul's mouth flattened into a tense line. "I cannot see any evidence of broken bones, though, and that is a very good thing. I wish I could have listened to her lungs but by the sound of her coughs, I would hazard a guess that there is congestion; plus she is running a slight fever. I have done what I can for the burns about her wrists and ankles."

"Why is she so confused?" Christine wanted to know. She watched as Raoul and Dominic exchanged looks, Raoul lowering his eyes. "What are you not telling me?"

"She has been heavily drugged," Raoul said as he turned to look at his wife.

"Why?" Christine asked incredulously.

"I do not have that answer for you."

Christine turned her attention back to Dominic. "What does this mean?"

"It means the next few days are going to be very difficult as the drug works its way out of Annalise's body." Dominic told her. "She is already in a weakened state from a lack of food and the fever which I am sure is a result of the night spent in the rain."

"What?" Christine interrupted. She looked up at Raoul who was shaking his head.

"He gave her nothing but the drug, Christine," Raoul said as gently as he knew how, "and he left her in the rain one night."

Christine closed her eyes in pain. "Oh, my poor baby!" she said softly.

"I have seen withdrawal before," Dominic continued, "when I was a young medical student. It is very painful for the patient. They have trouble sleeping; there are wild mood swings, nausea and fever. I would be lying if I said I did not have concerns for how this may adversely affect your daughter's continued health."

"We shall just have to see that it does not," Christine said, her determination evident in every syllable.

"I would like to stay, if I may," Dominic said. "I have a new young partner who can tend our regular patients, whether they approve or not. I would feel much better about Annalise if I were here to see her through this."

"Whatever you ask," Raoul told him, "but what of your wife?"

"She is the wife of a physician; she will understand." Dominic crossed the room and laid a hand on each of them. "Who is this Andrew you wish me to see?"

"He is the young man who brought Annalise home," Christine said.

"I shall go and see to Andrew, gather my things and be back as soon as possible. You must try to get Annalise to sleep before she cannot."

"We will do what we can," Raoul assured him. "I believe you will find Andrew in the library."

"I can see myself out," Dominic said as he left the room.

"Raoul," Christine said as the door closed and her voice broke.

Raoul gathered his wife into his arms, letting her cry into his shoulder. He did not know for how long they stood there, gathering comfort, shedding fears, the emotions of a shared lifetime flooding over and through them. Raoul was deep in his own thoughts, trying to find a way to tell Christine that her angel had saved their child, had succeeded where he had once again failed, when he heard her calling his name. "I am sorry," Raoul told Christine as he returned to the world around him. "I did not hear you."

"I want to know if Andrew told you anything else." Christine asked again, shaking her head. "Raoul, Annalise has bruises everywhere! She has said things and I am afraid that he might have ..."

"No," Raoul interrupted, softly and emphatically. "He did not."

"Andrew told you?" Christine wondered and watched as her husband nodded. "How can he be sure?"

"I believe what he says." She needed to know; she had a right to know. Raoul closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage. "Christine," he began, "there was someone else who aided Andrew ..."

A knock at the door stopped Raoul before he could tell Christine that there really was a guardian Angel in their daughter's life.

"Come," Christine said.

Richard opened the door. "I do not wish to interrupt but Rachel said you were in here. Inspector Berube is downstairs with Andrew and Regine; I thought you would want to know," he told his father.

"I need to be there," Raoul told Christine.

"Go," Christine replied. "Annalise needs Andrew; I do not know what it will do to her if Andrew becomes entangled with the law and cannot be with her." Christine reached out for Raoul as he walked out the door and waited until he turned to her. "We are not finished though; I know there is something you are not telling me."

Raoul laid a hand on his wife's arm. "There is something and I will tell you," he promised, "but I need to guard Andrew's interests at the moment." He walked out the door and down the stairs, grateful for the extra time gained before he needed to tell Christine the truth about who had really saved Annalise. It was time that he could use to formulate the words he needed to say. Yet Raoul had other worries at the moment; he worried about how to guard Andrew and Regine from the law while explaining the disappearance of Michaud. There was still another to guard Raoul's mind reminded him as he opened the door into the library.

_I cannot believe I am protecting that man,_ Raoul thought to himself in amazement as he entered the library.

Inspector Berube was scrutinizing Andrew and Regine from a position of authority as he stood by the window, notepad in hand, a uniformed gendarme by his side. He raised his eyes at the sound of the door opening.

"Inspector," Raoul said as he walked into the library and went to stand behind the chairs were Andrew and Regine were seated.

It was a move not lost on the inspector. "Monsieur le Vicomte, may I say how very relieved we all are that your daughter has been returned safely. I hope she is well after her ordeal."

"Thank you, my daughter is as well as can be expected," Raoul replied with a slight incline of his head. "She is resting under her mother's care."

Inspector Berube took careful note of the gentle warning and knew he would not be speaking with the young woman. "I pray you will convey our wishes for her speedy recovery and our regards to Madame la Comtesse."

"I shall and I know they will be thankful for them," Raoul assured him and turned his attention to Andrew. "You have seen the doctor?"

Andrew briefly looked over his shoulder. "Yes sir, thank you. He wrapped my bruised ribs and cleansed my head wound. I am not expecting any further problems."

"I am glad to hear it." Raoul placed one of his hands on the back of each chair. "I hope I am not interrupting."

The inspector did not miss the unspoken message - these men are under my protection. "I was just inquiring of these two gentlemen how it was they were able to do what my trained men were not."

"I have the same question," Raoul lied, his voice calm and even, betraying no emotion.

It was Regine who answered. "When word reached us of what had happened, I felt as if I had to do something to aid the family who had always dealt with me in a fair and honest manner. I knew of a man who occasionally stayed in the caravans that passed through the woods. I sought him out, found him and sent him to gather what information he could."

The inspector raised a quizzical eyebrow. "This man of whom you speak, he did this willingly?"

Regine drew a breath, sitting a bit straighter. "I do not wish to admit this in front of the Vicomte but I found this man years ago sleeping in our stables. I was moved by his plight and in a moment of weakness, I agreed to let him work for food and a roof over his head. He would not remain permanently but the times he passed through Saumur I would let him stay in the stables."

"We will speak of this later," Raoul told him for the inspector's benefit and wondered if any of what he had just heard was true.

Inspector Berube turned his attention to Andrew. "What of you, Monsieur Cameron? I have heard how you chased after the coach but you have yet to say how you knew where to find Monsieur Trombley."

"I knew of the de Chagny country estate from conversations I had shared with my sister, Monsieur and Mademoiselle de Chagny." Andrew sighed. "I also have an admission that is awkward to speak. I left Paris several weeks ago in an effort to find a small vineyard to purchase. I was hoping to show Mademoiselle de Chagny that I was earnest in my wish to spend the rest of my life with her."

This was something that Raoul had not heard before.

"That is how I knew my way around the darkened country roads," he explained. "When I came to that crossroads and saw the sign for Saumur, I knew where I needed to go," Andrew ended.

"So you went to the de Chagny country estate, spoke to Monsieur Trombley who sent this unknown man into the caravan camps and that is how you knew where to find Mademoiselle; am I correct?" Inspector Berube asked. He waited as the two men nodded. "I am expected to believe this? Am I also expected, Monsieur Cameron, that you did not think to send word back to Paris regarding your actions?"

Andrew shook his head. "I am deeply sorry for my lack of consideration but I truly could not think beyond my desire to find Mademoiselle de Chagny."

"It is - perhaps - understandable," Inspector Berube said softly and finished, "but not forgivable. You have answered my first question. Now, I assume that this unknown man was the one who told you where to find mademoiselle."

"Yes," Regine replied. "He discovered through his connections how to find the place where Mademoiselle was behing held. He returned three days later. We left the day after he came to us with the news and we rode through the evening. I left that man with the horses and carriage. I went through the back door and Monsieur Cameron through the front."

"The stairs creaked as I was going up and Deschene came running down the upstairs hall," Andrew continued. "We fought on the staircase and he overpowered me. I ended up at the bottom of the staircase, my ribs bruised and my shoulder dislocated."

"I heard the noise from the back of the house," Regine went on. "I raced through and found Monsieur Cameron; he instructed me to get to Mademoiselle. I went up the stairs and struggled with Deschene, as well; I am accustomed to physical labor and overpowered him. I took Mademoiselle down the stairs to Monsieur Cameron"

"What of Deschene? Is there a name to this mysterious man aided you?" There was no answer. "I am afraid I must leave with the answers or both of you will be leaving with me." Inspector Berube looked at Raoul. "I must have answers Monsieur le Vicomte, and with all due respect, you cannot change that fact."

Raoul kept a calm outward demeanor belying his inner turmoil. He wondered how Andrew and Regine would answer the inspector to his satisfaction and without betraying Erik. _That man again,_ Raoul thought in exasperation._ I may be in his debt but I will tell the truth if it means keeping Andrew and Regine out of custody._

"The man who I befriended is named Tomas - he never offered a last name and I did not ask. Tomas had left some of his acquaintances to watch the house," Regine told the inspector. "They were holding the horses for us. I had just gotten Monsieur Cameron and Mademoiselle into the carriage when Deschene came bursting out the door after us. The horses were startled and they were struggling to hold them."

"Deschene was crazed," Andrew said, a frown creasing his brow. "I know of no other word to describe him. He was frightening in his strength and determination. Regine was doing his best to keep him from the carriage and Mademoiselle de Chagny. She was very frightened and I could do nothing but keep her close, trusting to the others to find a way to restrain Deschene."

"How was this restraint accomplished?" Inspector Berube wondered.

"It was not," Regine replied.

"Pardon me?" Raoul interjected. He had been so intent upon his concerns regarding The Phantom that he had not been listening closely to what was being said. His outburst caused Andrew and Regine to turn for a moment to look at him. "Pray, excuse me."

"Certainly," Inspector Berube said, taking note of the unexpected reaction from the young woman's father. It boded well for the two men seated in front of him. He turned his attention back to Regine. "Please, continue."

"I was doing my best to keep Deschene from gaining access to the carriage when Tomas and another came to my assistance." Regine sat quietly for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "I think it was too much for him to try to take on three of us and he ran into the surrounding woods; Tomas and the other man hard on his heels. That is the last that I know of him for I jumped into the carriage and raced to bring Mademoiselle home."

"I see," the inspector replied thoughtfully and turned his attention to Andrew. "Is this how you understand the facts?"

"Yes sir," Andrew replied.

There was a long, pregnant silence in the room as Inspector Berube studied his notebook. He knew that three sets of eyes were studying him, waiting and worrying as to what he was thinking, planning. The inspector closed his notebook and raised his eyes to the three men across from him. "I cannot say that I am happy that this man has gotten away. I will need Monsieur Trombley to give a detailed location of the place where Mademoiselle was kept so that we may begin searching for Monsieur Deschene. I believe I have the answers that I need," he started and held up a hand, "for the moment. I am going to report to my superiors what I have heard here today; I guarantee they will not be pleased regarding the lack of knowledge about Deschene's whereabouts. There may be further questions for Monsieur Cameron and Monsieur Trombley but I think I can keep this out of the public eye." He turned his attention to Raoul. "That is the best I can do at this point, Monsieur."

At his words, Regine nodded his head, Andrew closed his eyes and Raoul heaved a silent sigh.

"Thank you, Inspector Berube," Raoul said. He extended his hand as the inspector crossed the room, the gendarme close behind. "Rest assured that Monsieur Trombley will be available upon your request."

"As will I," Andrew added.

"Then I take my leave," the inspector said. "I shall be in touch."

"We await the results of your continuing investigation and hope that you can find this man," Raoul said. "I do not wish to have my daughter worrying over her safety. I also wanted to thank you, again, for you help through this trying time."

"I was just doing my job, Monsieur le Vicomte."

"It was done well, nonetheless," Raoul told him, "and it was greatly appreciated."

Inspector Berube gave a nod of acknowledgement and followed Raoul to the door of the library. As Raoul opened the door, allowing the inspector and the gendarme to leave, a man and a woman were coming down the hall in the opposite direction. Raoul gave them a large smile.

"Ambassador Norris," he said. "I believe there is a young man in here who you have come to see."

"Andrew is all right?" William wanted to know. Raoul nodded and William gave a curt nod. "Thank God; and your daughter?"

"She will be well given time," Raoul replied not willing to believe otherwise. "Thank you." He turned to the library. "Regine, come with me please," he said into the room, waiting as Regine joined him. "We will leave you."

"Katherine?" Abigail wanted to know.

"She is upstairs with my daughter, Madame Norris," Raoul told her. "I will send her to you." He left with Regine as William and Abigail entered the library.

"Cousin William, " Andrew said a bit sheepishly as he stood to face his two older cousins, "Cousin Abigail. I am sorry for any distress I caused you."

"Oh," Abigail said as she crossed the room to gather Andrew in her arms. "It does not matter! You are safe!"

"You are safe," William echoed softly with tight smile and a brief nod. A wave of relief washed over him as he thought of his young cousin's parents and the letter he would now not need to send.


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

Summary: Erik and his companions travel to England to dispense their own form of justice to Michaud. Upon arrival back in Paris, Erik receives a strange summons.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

The ride from Paris to Le Havre could be accomplished two ways - the water route via the Seine or the overland route via wheeled conveyance. The water route added nearly thirty miles as the Seine meandered back and forth through the French countryside. It was faster to hire a private conveyance and take the overland route and faster added expenses. Expensive and faster also meant privacy. Privacy meant no questions would be asked or would need to be answered. Faster just meant faster. The faster that the nightmare would be gone from France. The faster that justice would be served. The faster that Annalise could begin putting the pieces of her life back together. The faster that he could - once more - leave Christine behind.

All these thoughts passed through Erik's mind as he stood on the deck of the ship that was halfway between Le Havre and Portsmouth, England. The channel was calm under the midday sun, a light summer breeze billowed the sails, urging the ship onwards to the English port. If Erik took note of these things, it was only to notice how slowly or quickly they were getting him and his companions to England. He sighed and turned from the railing, moving past men who paid him little heed. This was a working boat, not the usual ferry and if an eccentric, deformed man wished to take his mad relation to England for treatment, what business was it of theirs? They were all being paid well for their silence and the money meant a bit of extra security for a few months.

Erik walked down the stairs to the boat's lower level, stopping at the door guarded by Charles. Erik had found the man useful after Andrew had left with Annalise and kept him to assist with getting Michaud out of the country. Charles was grateful for the money he was paid and some part of him found satisfaction in being on the opposite end of justice - such justice as it was. Charles nodded at Erik.

"How is my nephew?" Erik asked in a very smooth tone of voice designed to fool any within hearing distance.

"He's been putting up a bit of a fuss," Charles said as he unlocked the door.

"What a disappointment," Erik replied. "I must tend to the poor lad." He went through the door that Charles had opened and waited until it closed behind him, the lock falling into place. Erik's eyes swept the small cabin, seeing Tomas sitting at attention on an overturned crate; and on what passed for a bunk, trussed up like a Christmas goose, Michaud lay glaring at the man who had ruined his plans.

"He is not very happy today," Tomas said evenly, never taking his eyes from Michaud.

Erik walked over to Michaud and leaned over him, patting him on the cheek. "I am sorry to hear that," Erik said. "I had so hoped the sea air would be beneficial to your health." He smiled as he laid a hand on the gag that guaranteed Michaud's silence. "I am going to take this off and any screams you may make for help will be utterly ignored." Erik yanked roughly on the gag. "How do you like being the victim?" he hissed.

"I am going to kill you," Michaud snarled.

"It has been tried before," Erik shrugged.

The evil that had so frightened Annalise glittered at the back of Michaud's eyes. "And when I am done with you, I am going to go back and finish what I started!"

It did not even take the space of a single heartbeat before Erik's fingers were wrapped around Michaud's throat, cutting off his air. "You will never again lay a finger on Annalise," the deadly whisper came as Erik lifted Michaud by the throat.

"Kill me," came the desperate plea as sanity fought its way to the surface. "Oh God! Just kill me now!"

Erik was not prepared for the brief moment and he faltered, his brows creasing in consternation.

The moment was gone as quickly as it had come, the anger and the evil and the nothingness regaining control, laying claim to the body, banishing the last vestiges of humanity to a dark, endless void. "Weakling!" the anger shouted. "You cannot even kill when begged to do so!"

"Weak?" Something dangerous gleamed in the back of Erik's eyes. "Weak?" he repeated. "Do you have any idea how much strength it is taking for me to not rip your throat out at this very moment?" There was no answer. "Do you?" Erik shouted as he loosed his fingers and Michaud's head bounced against the wood of the bunk. "You have no idea how much I desire to take and drop you in the Channel and let the fishes have you for dinner." A hand reached up to touch the locket beneath his shirt, a decidedly nasty smile growing on his face. "You, though, are destined for other things."

"Such as what?" the anger asked between clenched teeth.

"Does the term 'poetic justice' mean anything to you?" Erik wondered.

The anger looked confused and Tomas just snorted as Erik turned on his heel and left the room. He would not return again until they had reached the harbor at Portsmouth. Erik would spend the remaining hours standing on deck at the railing, staring at the deep, dark swirling waters of the Channel, his thoughts equally deep and swirling though no longer as dark. Erik placed his hands on the railing, resting his weight on them. He closed his eyes and tried to sort out what it was that he felt.

The first thing Erik felt and recognized was what he had always felt from that first day he had seen the child praying in the deserted chapel - desire. "Christine," he mouthed silently as he opened his eyes allowing himself to be drawn into the mesmerizing movement of the water. It did not matter how many years would pass, how many miles would separate, the desire that burned and rolled in his stomach for her would always be the first thing he would feel.

That desire, much like the waves that lapped against the boat's hull folding into each other, disappeared under the next emotion that flooded him. It was the emotion he had not understood. It was the emotion he had confused with desire. It was the emotion that he had not seen until it was too late. It was the one he had been searching for from his first breath. His Angel had shown him what it was; had placed it within him. It was the one thing he had been certain - until two days ago - would extend beyond his death. He would be no more but the love he had been given and carried with him from that awful night. It was that love that would continue on long after he was dust.

All of that - all the desire, the love, the need, the longing - the things he thought eternal parts of his wretched existence had been changed by a mere slip of a girl. Even without his knowing she had crept into his life from the moment he first saw her carried within her mother. She had been there all those years, reaching deep into his being, as he watched her from the shadows. Finally, courage drawn around him like a shield, he had reached out to her only to find that she had reached back. She had spent those precious two weeks washing away anger and bitterness, reinforcing love, laughter and life. She had finished what her mother had started and he knew that it was not only the love that would carry on after his death; it was something far more precious and something he had never thought to have.

"Thank you, my little angel," Erik whispered softly, hoping - praying - that he would be given the chance to tell Annalise in person.

He continued to ponder upon his life and the two women who had forever changed him even as Portsmouth came into view, its lights twinkling in the summer twilight like ethereal guardians of a gate through which evil could never again pass. Erik turned from his contemplation and went down to the cabin as the sailors began the process of moving the boat into dock. He saw that Charles did not stand guard at the door and smiled - his orders were being followed and he would remember that. Erik passed into the small cabin and stood taking measure.

"Well done," he told Tomas and Charles as he crossed to the bunk where Michaud lay unconscious. Erik laid a finger upon the man's throat feeling the strong pulse beneath. "Good," he whispered, turning to the two men. "You know what to do now."

"Aye," Tomas replied. "We go into the town and hire a coach and drivers. Money not being an object."

"No questions," Charles added.

"How long to get to the place where your friends work?" Erik wondered.

Tomas thought for a moment. "Less than a day if the horses are good and we make no stops."

"A day out, a day back," Erik thought softly and out loud. "That should put us back in France within three days, Paris in five. It will do." He turned his attention back to the other two men. "Go now and be swift." Tomas and Charles left quietly, closing the door behind them and Erik once again looked at the drugged and sleeping man on the bunk. "You owe her your life," he snarled, "such as it will be." He stood, moving to sit on the crate. "We both do," he whispered in a gentler tone.

It would be two more hours before Tomas and Charles would return with the news that they had accomplished what they had set out to do; a coach and four had been hired, the driver - grateful for the extra money - asked no questions. He was waiting at dockside as Tomas and Charles carried an unconscious Michaud off the boat, placing him in the coach, his hands and feet bound, his mouth gagged. Each of them sat on opposite sides of Michaud, Erik on the seat facing them. As the coach slowly wound its way through the crooked streets leading from the docks into and through Portsmouth, Erik slowly relaxed, leaning back in to the leather cushions, his guard never dropped.

The trip from Portsmouth to Southampton was sixteen miles over easy to travel country lanes. The coach driver stopped in Southampton to change horses per his instructions. Tomas and Charles turned their attention towards Michaud as he slowly began to stir, senses heightened, fists curling. Erik just looked at their captive with a raised brow and crossed his legs. Horses changed, the coachman continued the next leg of his journey to Basingstoke, a distance of some twenty-eight miles. Twenty-eight miles in which Erik and his traveling companions watched as their hostage slowly regained consciousness and his gag was removed with a wave of Erik's hand.

"What do you intend to do with me?" the anger wanted to know.

Erik shook his head. "Such impertinence," he tsked. "Do you not even care where you are or to where it is you are going? Do you not care what my intentions are?" He leaned forward, drawing closer to Michaud. "After what you did to Annalise, you should care. You should care very, _very_ much."

Michaud's tense shoulders slowly relaxed; the anger that glittered in his eyes surrendering to a strange blankness. He leaned back into his seat. "Why should I care?" he wondered. "You have already made the decision regarding my fate. What can I do about such things now?"

The two men studied each other for a moment. The nothingness that now held sway over Michaud refusing to give any ground. Erik knew the nothingness, the anger and the evil, had embraced them and used them for most of his life; he leaned back in his seat, a part of him delighting in his own evil and anger.

"Then let me explain," Erik said softly, the emotion and power behind his words reverberating off the walls of the coach. "You did unspeakable things to an innocent girl who never caused harm to anyone."

The evil leaning back in the seat across from him also spoke softly. "So did you," he interrupted.

The truth cut through Erik like a burning knife. "I did," he acknowledged. "I killed for her. I destroyed lives for her. Yet I never directly hurt her the way you hurt her child." Erik sat up straighter. "I never beat her. I never tortured her. I would never have done the things that you did."

"You wanted to," the evil replied in a voice as soft and deadly as a snake. "You wanted to break her, to make her crawl to you." The evil leaned slightly forward, his movements matched by the men seated on either side. "You wanted her. You wanted to consume her, to hear her cry your name as you possessed her - body and soul." An unpleasant half-smile curled his lips. "I just took what you were not man enough ..."

His words were cut off as Erik moved in one smooth motion to pin Michaud against the wall of the coach. "A man would never take a woman against her will. Do not mistake me for you." Erik let him go and once again leaned back in his seat. "Besides, you are not much of a man, are you? You did not accomplish what you set out to do or have you forgotten that small detail?" His smile was full and as unpleasant as Michaud's had been.

The growl that emanated from Michaud filled the coach. The actions that followed seemed to happen in the time that it took to draw a single breath. Michaud made to leap upon Erik, his body springing upwards from his seated position. Erik sat motionless, watching him, one eyebrow raised in mild amusement. Even as Michaud's knees began to straighten, the hands of Tomas and Charles reached out for him, grabbing at his arms, drawing him backwards. Michaud struggled against them, still trying to reach for the man sitting nonchalantly opposite him, his anger growing more palpable by the moment. The strength of a man consumed by hatred and madness was no match for Tomas and Charles and as they began to lose their battle to restrain him, a blur passed in front of their eyes, followed by a choking sound as the nothingness regained control. Tomas and Charles looked to Erik who kept hold of one end of a lasso.

"Did you think I would be unprepared for the likes of you?" he asked Michaud with a tilt of his head. The nothingness had no answer. "Such a good little beastie." Erik loosed the tension of the rope in his hands the tiniest bit as Tomas and Charles regained their hold on the man seated between them. "This is how it is going to be," Erik began. "My friend Tomas knows of a place in the countryside outside of Basingstoke. It is a place that deals with the likes of you - with no questions asked as long as the money is paid." His smile was most decidedly unpleasant. "And they are being paid well to care for you. You shall spend the rest of your miserable existence in their care but do not expect to be cognizant of your surroundings." Erik's countenance grew dark, his voice deadly. "You will be spending the rest of your life locked in a little room with no means of escape. You will be kept drugged night and day except for the times when you are overlooked. Such times will be most difficult for you as the drug works its way out of your system." His voice lowered even further. "Those are the times when you will crawl and beg for release." Erik's eyes narrowed. "And should you - by some chance - not survive those moments, I do not think anyone would mourn."

The anger resurfaced. "You cannot do this!"

"Cannot?" Erik wondered calmly. "Oh, I most certainly can. I am only doing to you what you did to Annalise." He gave a gentle tug on the lasso. "Do not think to talk your way out of this, either. They think you are my crazed nephew who requires special treatment after murdering his parents. Treatment I can no longer give." He raised an eyebrow in amusement as the anger smoldered. "I would, also, not think anyone in Paris will care where you are after they discover it was you who abducted Annalise. I can assure you her father's name carries enough power to make such a thing happen." The one time in his life Erik was glad to acknowledge the power Raoul held. "You are going to experience everything you put my little angel through; just be glad you are not going to be beaten."

Michaud sunk back into his seat, his muscles relaxing, the anger giving way to the nothingness. There was no response to Erik's words. There would be no other response for the rest of the trip. Michaud sat limp and still between the watchful Tomas and Charles. Erik reclined against the back of his seat, seemingly disinterested in his captive, except for the fingers that kept careful hold of the lasso.

Night was giving way to day as the coach turned down a country lane, stopping in front of two massive gates set into a stone wall nearly eight feet high. A man atop the wall looked down and gave a signal causing the gates to open. The coach moved through and into a quiet, grim courtyard where it stopped by another set of doors. These doors were set into the front of a large, sprawling building made of the same stone as the surrounding wall - a fortress. A fortress of high walls, barred windows, heavy stone, all meant to keep the outside world out and those inside secreted away.

"It will be but a moment," Tomas said and looked at the silent man sitting next to him.

Erik finally moved; if only to give a warning tug on the lasso. "Be a good little boy," he warned, "and do not make this difficult." The nothingness said nothing and Erik addressed Tomas without taking his attention from Michaud. "Go now."

Tomas exited the coach and Charles tightened his grip on the arm that he been holding.

Erik leaned forward, drawing the rope closer and closer, taking up the slack. "This is a place where people are put to be forgotten," he began softly, a brow arching in cruel amusement. "Think of it as an _oubliette_; I am sure you are familiar with the term." No outward sign of acknowledgement was given and Erik continued. "There are people here who are genuinely ill. Others are here because they cannot pay their monetary debts. There are others who are like Tomas and must pay their debt to society." Erik laughed softly. "Tomas paid his debt and stayed to work here, helping to save a life in the process; it earned him his freedom." Erik gave a tug on the lasso. "Do not think to be that fortunate."

The door to the coach opened at that moment, Tomas standing there with an officious man in a somber suit. Behind them stood two others, strong and large, arms crossed over their chests. "This is Doctor Preston," he said.

The nothingness grew tense as the anger laid claim to the body. "You cannot do this to me!" the anger shouted.

Doctor Preston motioned to the two burly men. "You know what to do," he said simply.

Two hours of shouting, cursing and struggling later, Michaud was securely bound in a straight jacket. He sat on the floor of a tiny room with only a bed and a narrow window high up in the wall, his head beginning to loll as the drugs took effect. It was quiet at that end of the building - money afforded privacy, peace and quiet. Erik watched Michaud from the doorway, Doctor Preston at his side.

"Do not distress yourself," Doctor Preston was saying. "We shall have a care for your nephew."

"Thank you," Erik replied smoothly with just the right sigh in his voice as he looked at the doctor. "It pains me to leave him alone in a strange land with no relations but Tomas assures me you can do for him what I can no longer accomplish on my own." He turned his attention back to Michaud. "May I speak with him one last time?"

Doctor Preston nodded. "You must do it quickly before he succumbs fully to the drugs."

Nodding, Erik moved gracefully into room, going to Michaud's side, lifting his chin so that Michaud was forced to look at him. Erik was intimately familiar the dangerous gleam that still lived in Michaud's eyes - in spite of the drugs - and knew he had made the right decision. "You do not deserve it," he said softly, "but she will pray for your soul. Be thankful you have that much."

Erik turned on his heel and never looked back.

The coach ride back to Portsmouth was accomplished in utter silence; Tomas and Charles wise enough to know not to disturb the deep contemplation in which Erik wrapped himself. It was a silent contemplation that did not unwrap during the boat ride across the channel. It slowly began to release itself as the three men shared another coach from Le Havre back to Paris.

"We are not going back to the country?" Charles had wondered.

"No," Erik said without taking his eyes from the countryside that rolled gently past the coach window. "Andrew gave me directions to an apartment in Paris before we left to save Mademoiselle de Chagny. We are to be expected." There was another long moment of silence. "I trust him," Erik said softly and without pain.

They were expected when they arrived at the apartment two days later. It was in a very fashionable part of Paris, the entire second floor of a converted town home. The man who opened the door for them gave a slight nod.

"I have been waiting for you," he said simply. "Monsieur Cameron has left instructions that you are to request from me anything you need and I shall see that it is accomplished."

A puzzled look crossed Erik's face. "He said nothing else?" He had been hoping for news about Annalise.

"No," another voice said as Regine Trombley rose from a high-backed chair and turned to face the astonished men. He looked directly at Erik. "But Monsieur le Vicomte would like to see you."


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Summary: The rest of the family learns the truth about what happened to Annalise. She and Andrew share a brief moment under her parents' watchful eyes. Raoul finds the words to tell Christine who saved Annalise as her family begins the fight for her life.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Monday through Sunday - a span of seven days. The time it is said God took to create the heavens, the earth and rest. Seven days. The length of time that Annalise had been missing. The time it took to rip apart the lives that Raoul and Christine had created for themselves. Seven days. The time it took Erik to remove Michaud from France and from Annalise's life. It was during those seven days when Erik traveled from France to England and back again that Raoul and Christine's lives went from joy to sorrow only to return to joy in the time it took for a heart to cry unto God. They were seven days of hard work and pain culminating in rest. Seven days in which lives - much like the universe - were created from ashes that swirled and tumbled in the darkness of the void. Seven days in which a most unlikely Angel was sent to save, to be redeemed and to reconcile.

It was seven days that began when Inspector Berube left and Andrew was reunited with his cousins. Raoul watched from the front windows as the inspector was driven away before climbing the stairs anxious to see his daughter. As he rounded the corner into the hallway that led to Annalise's room, Raoul found his sons, their wives and Katherine standing, quietly talking.

"Katherine," Raoul said as he approached them. "Your cousins have arrived and they are with Andrew in the library. I think they would be glad to have you with them." He managed a small smile as her eyes lit up.

"Thank you," Katherine replied. "I shall go to them at once." She moved quickly through the hall, disappearing down the staircase.

Jean-Paul cleared his throat. "You spoke with Andrew and Regine," he began, "what did they say? What did that ..." He struggled with his words, his guilt over bringing Michaud into his family's lives. "What did that man do to my sister?"

"They would not tell us everything," Richard added. "They felt it was your place to do so."

Raoul sighed, knowing he would have to tell them but hesitant to repeat the words. He did not wish to keep hearing his voice as it spoke the nightmare his daughter had endured. He was a creature of his upbringing, so Raoul put aside his own feelings for the sake of his children; his sons had also suffered. There were enough nightmares haunting the halls of his home and no need for more when he could banish them with the truth. Yet he knew he could not tell all of it for there was still a piece of the story that Christine would need to hear before it was shared with anyone else - he owed her that much. Raoul opened the door to the upstairs sitting room and motioned for his children to enter. He followed behind them, softly closing the door, waiting until everyone was seated. Raoul remained on his feet for he was not certain he would be able to stand again were he to relax enough to sit.

"First of all," Raoul began, looking pointedly at Jean-Paul, "none of you is to bear any guilt over this. I know that is asking much but what has happened cannot be undone and we - all of us - must turn our energies away from such things and towards helping Annalise recover. Can you each try to do so?" Raoul sighed, hearing his words but not believing them himself; he would carry his guilt with him to the grave. He waited as heads slowly nodded. "Thank you. I do know what he did to your sister and it is not easy for me to repeat such things. I think it is rather obvious from the bruising that she was beaten. I know - all too well - that the marks about her throat mean that he tried to kill her."

Leonie and Therese found themselves reaching for their husbands' hands in comfort.

Gustave, his color pale, the exertions of the day taking their toll on him, raised worried eyes to his father. "Why is she so confused? She barely even knows who we are or where she is."

"She was kept drugged the entire time," Raoul told him. "That is why the confusion. Annalise also spent a night drugged and in the rain."

Richard gently squeezed Leonie's hand. "Oh no," he breathed. "Why would he do that to her?" He voiced the question everyone else asked silently. It was a question for which no one had an answer.

Jean-Paul drew a deep breath. "Sir, is there anything else?" The question hung potent in the air, everyone knowing what he meant.

Raoul looked at the five sets of eyes watching him, seeing mirrored in them the fears and nightmares he had borne over the past week. He shook his head, unwilling to say the actual word in front of his sons' wives. He hoped his children would see the truth reflected in his own eyes. "No," he said simply.

Jean-Paul leaned back in his chair, feeling his wife stroke his arm. "Thank you, God," he said, grateful for this moment of mercy - in a sea of turmoil - shown his sister.

"What happens now?" Therese wondered.

"What can we do to help Annalise recover?" Leonie added.

"Monsieur Nesselien has said the next several days will be very difficult as the drug and its effects wear away. He is concerned enough that he will be staying here until this withdrawal has been completed." His eyes surveyed the room. "I hesitate to ask this for each of you have already given so much."

"Sir," Jean-Paul addressed his father, "we want to help. She is our sister; you and Maman do not need to do this alone."

Raoul nodded his thanks. "Your mother and I are going to need each of you to help as we sit with Annalise. We cannot leave her alone during this time. The doctor will be able to tell you more when he returns."

"We will all take turns," Richard replied, his wife nodding her head.

"Do not think to keep me out of this," Gustave warned.

"I am not that foolish," his father said with a half-smile on his face. "But I think you should get some rest first."

Gustave sighed. "I am tired," he acknowledged, feeling the ache and weariness creep over him.

Therese stood. "Come," she said as she offered her hand. "Let me help you."

Raoul watched as Gustave was helped to his feet. "I must return to your sister. Please try to eat and to rest," he told them. "Annalise will need all our strength to get through what lies before her." Raoul left the room and crossed the hallway. He paused for a moment, gathering his sensibilities about him, before opening the door to Annalise's bedroom. As he walked in he saw Christine sitting on the bed by Annalise, her hand gently stroking her daughter's head as it rested in her lap, Annalise fighting to keep her eyes open. Raoul's eyes grew misty; it was as if the years had rolled away and Annalise was a small child sleeping in her mother's lap. How he wished it were so! Remembering how easily she frightened Raoul slowly and quietly approached his daughter's bedside. He gave his wife a smile as she raised her head to look at him. Raoul sat in the chair that had been placed next to the bed.

"Annalise," Christine whispered. "Your father is here."

"Papa," Annalise's voice was hoarse and barely audible. She reached out a hand.

Raoul gratefully took his daughter's hand, raising it to his lips. "I am right here."

Annalise's eyelids fluttered. "Andrew?"

"I will go," Christine said softly to Raoul before placing a kiss on her daughter's head. "I will go and bring Andrew to you and your father shall stay here."

"Yes," Annalise said.

Christine stood, holding onto her daughter's head, easing a pillow beneath it. She gave Annalise a final caress and a quick touch to her husband's shoulder before leaving the room. Raoul drew the chair closer to the bed, keeping hold of his daughter's hand as he used his other hand to brush the hair from her eyes. He tilted his head as he studied the familiar landscape of his daughter's face, his heart breaking all over again as he noted the imprint of hands on her cheeks, a long narrow cut by the edge of her scalp. Raoul shook his head at the finger-shaped bruises about Annalise's throat, remembering the sensation of not being able to draw breath, of feeling the world narrow down to a small black dot; it still haunted him. How much worse had it been - and would it be - for his child?

"I had an angel," Annalise told her father.

"I know," Raoul replied. "I am very thankful that you did."

"You will not hurt my angel?" Annalise gripped her father's hand tightly, her breath quickening.

"I will do nothing to your angel," Raoul assured her. "I am in his debt for he saved your life and brought you back to us." He laid a comforting hand on his daughter's arm. "Annalise, I promise you that I shall do nothing to him. I will even send for him, if you would like." Raoul watched as his daughter's panicked breathing slowed and her eyes began to close.

"Thank you," Annalise breathed. She opened her eyes and raised her free hand to touch her father's face. "I love you."

Three simple words and they brought Raoul back to life after a week wherein his soul had been floating in a night darker than he had ever thought imaginable. "I love you, too," he said.

The sound of the door opening caused Annalise to focus her tired gaze beyond her father, a small smile crossing her face. Raoul raised an eyebrow as he watched her. The look on his daughter's face was something for which he was not yet prepared. He knew the look for he had seen it often enough on Christine's face and he knew who was in the doorway.

"Andrew," Annalise whispered as she held out her arms.

Andrew moved quickly to Annalise's side as Raoul stood and moved the chair back. He watched as Andrew took Annalise into his arms, holding her gently.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Annalise was saying as she wrapped her arms about Andrew's neck, allowing him to draw her into a sitting position.

"I would give you the moon, if I could," Andrew said and then whispered, "I love you." He drew back to look at the girl in his arms. "You need to sleep and get well."

"You need to sleep, too," Annalise told him as Andrew lowered her back to the bed. "Promise me."

"I will. I promise," Andrew assured her. "I am going to go with my cousins back to their residence; they are insisting."

Annalise looked to her parents, worry crossing her face. "He can come back? You will let him come back?"

"He will always be welcome here," Christine told her daughter.

Raoul laid a hand on Andrew's shoulder. "You will return in the morning, yes?"

Andrew looked over his shoulder before turning back to smile at Annalise. "I will be here."

"Yes," Annalise breathed as she snuggled into her pillow and closed her eyes.

Andrew gave one last look to the girl drifting off to sleep in her own bed before standing to shake Raoul's hand. "Thank you, sir. I would like to be here tomorrow, if I may."

"You will be expected," Raoul told him. "Go now and get some rest and we will see you in the morning."

Andrew nodded and walked towards the door where Christine stopped him.

"Thank you," she said and shook her head. "That seems so inadequate."

"You are welcome and I would do it again."

"I know," Christine said and gave him a smile.

"I can see myself out," Andrew told them and he walked through the door.

Christine turned to her husband, her smile disappearing. "Now, what is it that you did not tell me before."

Raoul looked at Annalise to ensure that she was sleeping. He walked across the room and took Christine by the hand. "There is something and it can no longer be delayed. We must get someone to sit with Annalise." He looked out the door and saw Jean-Paul and Therese; he motioned to them. "Can you come and sit with your sister?"

Jean-Paul nodded, sighed and gave a small smile. "Gladly," he replied as he felt a bit of confidence return with the knowledge that his parents trusted him with his sister's care. He felt a finger caressing the inside of his wrist and knew that his wife understood and loved him regardless of his imagined faults.

Raoul and Christine moved from the doorway allowing Jean-Paul and Therese to enter. Christine closed the door behind them and followed her husband across the hall and into the sitting room. She took a seat on the sofa while Raoul closed the door before joining her. Christine watched as Raoul took her hands, unwilling to meet her eyes. She studied his face, seeing a myriad of emotions playing across the refined features. She reached out to touch his neck, knowing just where the tiny, nearly invisible scars from the lasso were, running her fingers over them.

"I still hear that sound, you know," Christine said in a haunted tone of voice, her thoughts dancing through the dark underground of the opera house. "In my darkest nightmares I hear you choking, the sound echoing around the chamber."

"Christine," Raoul tried.

Christine shook her head sadly. "Now in my nightmares I shall also hear the sound of my child choking as the life was squeezed out of her." She closed her eyes. "When will it ever end?"

Raoul looked up. "Christine," he said emphatically and got her attention. "There is something you must know."

"What is it?" There was no answer. "Raoul, you can tell me anything," Christine insisted.

Raoul swallowed and drew a deep breath. "Annalise had a guardian Angel," he said simply.

Christine nodded. "Andrew. I know."

"No, it was not Andrew and you do not know." Raoul shook his head, his expression pained.

Now Christine was concerned. "Raoul," she paused for a moment. "What did Andrew say to you?"

"There was someone else who helped bring Annalise home. Someone not Andrew and not Regine." Raoul felt a sharp dart of fear pierce his heart. The distance that had grown between him and Christine over the last week was a thing he was not sure could be bridged. Once she knew the truth, Raoul was sure the chance to build that bridge would be lost forever but he loved his wife and he loved his daughter and he owed them both nothing less than to have the truth. "Christine," he said softly as he reached up a hand to lay it against her cheek. "Annalise had an Angel. A living, human Angel. An Angel from our past." He gave her a sad smile. "Your Angel."

Christine sat silently for a moment, studying her husband's face. Suddenly she withdrew her hands and stood, walking backwards from him. "Do not lie to me," she said, her delicate features creasing in to a frown. "That is just cruel."

"I have never lied to you in all the time I have known you," Raoul said as he watched his wife. "Andrew found himself at a crossroad and knew from his sister that Annalise knew Erik. He had nowhere and no one else to whom he could turn for help." There was silence in the room. "Christine, say something," Raoul pleaded. "Please."

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long has he been there? In our lives?"

Raoul lowered his head again. "Since before Annalise was born. He has been the strange hermit in the ruined monastery. That is how Annalise knows him."

"Oh my God," Christine raised a hand to cover her mouth, her eyes darting from side to side as thoughts raced behind them. She lowered her hand and felt behind herself, finding a chair in which to sink. "He has been there all this time. All these years." She turned her attention to her husband. "How long have you known?" Silence enveloped the room. "Answer me!" Christine nearly shouted.

"Since today," Raoul replied softly. "I truly did not know before and I feel like a fool. I ought to have listened to the talk in the village. I ought to have been able to put the pieces together."

"Yes, you ought to have." Christine shook her head. "I ought to have," she whispered softly as the tears began to fall freely. "He never left me. He did not desert me as I deserted him." Christine raised her head to look at her Raoul. "He loved me enough to never interfere with my life but kept watch to make sure I was happy. He loved our daughter enough to risk his own life to bring her back to us." Christine stared at Raoul. "Just who is the monster here?" she softly asked.

"None of us are monsters," Raoul replied.

Christine said nothing, her hurt stare speaking louder than mere words.

"We were caught up in a moment none of us could have predicted or stopped even had we tried," Raoul told her. He was silent for a moment as he heard his own words, their meaning becoming painfully clear. "It happened again." Raoul laughed softly; it was a sad, lonely sound. "It would seem God or Fate or History - whatever you choose to call it - has a somewhat cruel sense of humor. It just replayed our actions in our children's lives. They did pay for our sins."

"Our sins," Christine said emphatically. "Do not forget that for you and I are both at fault here." She stood. "I must get back to my child."

Raoul watched as his wife turned her back on him and walked out the door. He found he could not form a coherent thought or the words to bring her back to his side. Suddenly, though, it was there - a thought - clear, concise and it broke his heart. Yet Raoul knew what he had to do. It would be the ultimate gift to give to the woman who had given him so much over the years. It would be the one thing Christine had never had in her life. He only prayed he had the courage to see it through - no matter the ending. Raoul mentally shook himself for feeling so selfish when his daughter still faced a fight for her very life. He stood, burying his fears and desires deep within for it little mattered what happened to his life as long as Christine and Annalise were well and happy in theirs. Raoul followed his wife out of the room, ready to battle for his daughter's life and to surrender for his wife's happiness.

It would indeed be a battle for Annalise and those who loved her. It would be a battle that would extend for six days and nights as the opiate based drug she had been force-fed slowly worked its way out of her system. It would be a time when old wounds already open would split further apart and new wounds would be created. It would be a time when push would come to shove and giving up and giving in would not be an option. It would be a time when imagined strength would become weakness and weakness would become strength unimagined. It would be a time when a family torn apart by the past and present, by things said and unsaid would be rebuilt, stronger, more secure and infinitely happier than any of them could have imagined. It would be a time when individual pieces would come together to become a whole, complete unit. It would begin five hours after Annalise had finally fallen asleep in her own bed, her parents sitting with her, waiting, watching.


	40. Chapter Forty

Chapter Summary: Annalise begins drug withdrawal and the fight for her life. Her family begins the fight to stay together.

CHAPTER FORTY

It had been eight hours since the carriage carrying Andrew and Annalise had stopped in front of the portico to her home. Five hours since Annalise had finally given in to the sleep that longed to claim her exhausted mind and body. Two hours since Doctor Nesselien had returned with clothing for at least a week, several books and files of notes. He had briefed Annalise's brothers and their wives so that they would know what to expect before taking a quick look at Gustave and ordering him to bed for the night. The doctor had thenw contorting in pain.

Christine reached out for her daughter, lightly caressing her shoulder. "Annalise," she said and smiled as Annalise opened her eyes.

"Maman?" Annalise wondered, her hands reaching out to grip her mother's, her brow still contorted. "My back hurts."

"Why do you not try rolling onto your side?"

Annalise took her hands back and rolled onto her side. "It does not help," she said and looked at her parents' worried faces. "I am sorry. There is nothing wrong." She gave them a shaky smile and tried moving to a sitting position. "See, there is nothing wrong."

"Annalise," her father began, "you do not need to say there is nothing wrong if it is not true."

"If I do not, I will get into trouble," Annalise explained as she sat up. "Please do not put me into the closet again, please! There is nothing wrong." She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand only to fall into her father's arms. She looked at him as the tears began. "I am well. Please, not the closet!"

Raoul lifted his daughter up, vaguely aware of Christine at his side, his anger at Annalise's words threatening to overwhelm him. "No one is going to put you in any closet."

"He did," Annalise said, her breathing rapid, the tears still falling. "He would bind me and put me in the closet whenever I said things were not well. You will not do that to me? You will not put me in the closet?"

"No," Raoul assured her as he eased her back to bed. "I will allow no one to put you in any closet."

"Please try and remember you are home," Christine pleaded with her daughter. "No one here is going to hurt you."

"Yes, all right, I shall try," Annalise said as lay down on her side, curling into a ball. "My back still hurts."

Richard and Leonie came in two hours later to relieve their parents and the doctor. Annalise was asleep again but it was a very light and restless sleep.

"I had the maid bring trays up to the sitting room," Richard said. "I did not think you would wish to be far from Annalise."

Christine smiled at her son. "You have grown into a fine young man," she said. "I am very proud of you."

"Let us know if there is any significant change from her current condition," Doctor Nesselien said as he followed Raoul and Christine out the door and across the hall.

"The backache is only the beginning of the pain," Dominic Nesselien told Raoul and Christine as they sat around trays of food that had been barely touched. "I am afraid it is only going to get worse."

Overnight it did worsen as a familiar pain began to wrap Annalise in its tight grip. Richard, sitting with his father, was awake when the first stabs of pain drew a sharp gasp from his sister. He quickly stood and leaned over Annalise who was sitting upright, rocking back and forth on her bed.

"Not again, not again," she was repeating.

"Annalise," Richard said as he tried to get her attention by laying a cool hand on her head.

"Do not hit me!" she cried as she wrapped her arms about her middle. "It hurts. Oh God, it hurts." She looked up at her brother, trying to focus on his face. "Make it stop. Please make it stop."

"I wish I could make it stop for you," Richard whispered back, his concern evident in his face. "I wish I could take your pain."

Annalise wrapped her arms about her brother's neck, pulling him close. "Just hold me till it goes away. You were always so nice to me. Not like the others."

Richard sat down on the bed, still holding his sister, feeling her fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt as she worked through the pain. He was unaware of his father watching from beneath hooded eyes. "You do not mean that. You know how fond we all are of each other."

Annalise turned her head to look out the window at the dark night. "We used to be," she said and gasped as another sharp pain stabbed through her mid-section.

The first night faded away into morning. The bright summer sun streaming in through the lace curtains of the bedroom did little to chase away the invisible shadows that clung to every wall, every piece of furniture, every soul. It also brought a change of companions for Annalise. Richard left to get some sleep as the sun had fully risen and tried to get his father to do the same. It had begun as a vain effort for Raoul refused to leave his daughter's side, the emotional turbulence and lack of sleep from the previous week taking their toll on him, his ability to think clearly. Annalise had listened to the interchange between her father and brother from the bed, her back to them, her pain and discomfort increasing, setting her nerves on edge.

"Maman and Jean-Paul will be here to stay with Annalise," Richard tried again. "Sir, please, you were the one who said we all needed to keep our strength up."

Raoul shook his head, opening his mouth but the words never came.

Annalise rolled over, cried out in pain and fixed an irritated gaze on father and brother. "Leave me in peace!" Annalise said, her whispery voice harsh and grating. The tears started to come and Annalise pulled back as Raoul started to reach for her. "Do not touch me!"

"What is going on?" Christine asked as she came into the room, Jean-Paul behind her, waiting in the doorway.

Annalise wrapped her arms about her middle, drawing her knees up in pain. "Go away," she told everyone, closing her eyes and moaning softly.

Christine walked over and gently touched her husband's shoulder only to feel him shrug her off. She wore a confused look on her face as Raoul stood and turned around. "What ..." she began.

"I cannot," Raoul started and stopped. "I just ..." He shook his head in frustration. " ... cannot."

"Raoul," Christine said as she reached for him again only to have him once more shrug her off.

"Please do not," Raoul told her as he gave a last look his daughter before walking out of the room.

"Should I go after him?" Richard asked as he looked to his mother.

Christine shook her head. "No," she told him thinking she understood what her husband was feeling. "But you should get something to eat and go to your wife and child." She smiled at him as Richard opened his mouth. "I will send for you when you are needed." She watched as he walked out of the room, stopping to grasp his brother's shoulder. Jean-Paul returned the quick embrace before moving into the room to sit where his father had. Christine turned her attention to the doctor who had been sitting in the corner. "You must get some rest, as well," she told him.

His muscles protested their indignance as Dominic rose and stretched. He kept hold of some notes as he arched his back before moving to the bed where he looked at Annalise who had opened her eyes and was glaring back at him. Dominic returned the glare with a smile, trying not to aggravate his patient any further. He turned to look at Christine. "Do not let me sleep more than a few hours," he instructed. "Should things change ..."

"I shall come for you," Christine assured him. She turned towards her daughter as the door clicked shut behind the doctor. "Annalise?" There was no answer. "Would you like one of us to read to you?" Annalise turned her angry glare to her mother before rolling to her other side. "My dear ..."

"Leave me alone!"

Christine bit her bottom lip and sighed before taking the seat next to her eldest child. She felt Jean-Paul's hand reach out to cover her own and she looked at him, giving him a brief smile. He was so much like his father in looks and mannerisms. He could be stubborn and impossible and thoroughly aggravating; yet he felt things deeply and quietly, taking everything to heart. Christine studied her son's incredibly warm brown eyes for a moment, wondering and worrying what would happen if his sister's anger were to lash out at him. Christine knew Jean-Paul already carried guilt over what he thought was his role in what had happened. How much worse would it be if words were spoken that would not be remembered and could not be taken back?

"Maman?" Jean-Paul wondered, a frown crossing his handsome face. "Is there something you need me to do for you?"

Christine shook herself. "Yes," she replied.

"Anything," her son told her.

"Just stay here with me," Christine said as she clasped her son's hand.

They would sit together for the next several hours as early morning moved its way to mid-day. They would watch and worry, as Annalise's condition grew progressively worse in little stages. Her restlessness became fidgeting as she kicked at the bed linens, fumbled with the pillows and constantly changed positions trying to find a way to get comfortable. Annalise would sit at the edge of her bed, gripping tightly to the mattress, as sharp little knives of pain ripped through her mid-section before collapsing back onto the bed, the tears flowing freely. Christine and Jean-Paul felt helpless as Annalise, her irritation growing with the pain, refused any touch or comfort.

A particularly sharp pain caused Annalise to stop breathing and Christine rose to her feet, bending over her child, reaching out to touch her daughter's cheek, a sigh of relief passing her lips as Annalise drew a deep breath.

"Make it stop," Annalise pleaded with her mother.

Christine stood and turned to her son. "I must fetch the doctor." She turned back to Annalise. "I will return in a moment my dear," she said and moved quickly from the room.

Jean-Paul moved closer to the bed, reaching out to take his sister's hand in his own.

"Why?" Annalise asked through her tears.

"I do not know," Jean-Paul told her with a shake of his head.

"You were supposed to know," Annalise told him. "You are my brother. You ought to have stopped him. You ought to have stopped me." She gasped, her grip tightening on the hand that held hers. Annalise closed her eyes and did not see the guilt and grief that passed over her brother's face at her words.

Jean-Paul swallowed back his emotions. "I ought to have," the whisper was nearly inaudible. "I am so sorry," he said more loudly as he reached out to brush the hair from his sister's face "You are burning up!" he exclaimed and felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder to see his mother and the doctor behind him. Jean-Paul moved out of the way for them, going to the other side of the room to rest his head against the wardrobe, hiding his face so that no one would see his pain.

Dominic bent over Annalise, reaching out to touch her forehead. He shook his head at what he felt beneath his hand. He reached out to take a wrist to check for Annalise's pulse and found himself in a struggle with his patient.

"Do not touch me," Annalise managed as she opened her eyes, trying to take back her hand.

"Annalise, please," her mother tried.

"I hate you all," Annalise said as she tried to move to the other side of the bed. "Just go away."

"I will go and fetch Father," Jean-Paul said and quickly left the room before Christine could move to stop him.

Dominic kept hold of Annalise's wrist and felt what he feared. He let go of it and watched as his patient crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her hands and wrists beneath her arms. Dominic turned to face Christine. "The fever is now full blown," he said softly, "and her pulse is racing. I just wish I knew how strong a mixture of laudanum he fed her."

"How long can she go on like this?" Christine wondered as she turned a worried eye to her child.

"I wish I knew," Dominic said.

They both looked up at the sound of the door opening, Gustave standing there. "I saw Jean-Paul and said I would come to sit with you."

"Are you sure?" Christine wondered as her son moved to her side.

"I need to help," Gustave assured his mother.

"I must study my notes," Dominic told them and returned to his seat in the corner of the room, reaching for and opening the files he had left there the night before.

Gustave sat near his sister's bed as Christine quietly entered the bath. He gave Annalise a little smile. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he wondered.

"Why?" Annalise wondered back, her delicate features contorting into an angry frown that somewhat startled her brother.

"Because I love you and I am glad you are alive and home," Gustave replied.

"If you loved me, you would give me something to stop the pain," Annalise managed before another white-hot pain tore her in half.

Remembering the doctor's words from the night before - to give Annalise any drug would only prolong the withdrawal - Gustave shook his head sadly. "I wish that I could."

Christine approached them at that moment, a small bowl of water and a cloth in her hands.

"I do not want any help!" Annalise shouted in her hoarse voice and threw a pillow at her mother.

The pillow hit the bowl that Christine carried, splashing the water over her dress, sending it to fall upon the rug, the remaining water splashing over the edge of the bed linens and Gustave's pants. Christine laid a hand upon her youngest son's shoulder as he rose, before he could say anything. "It is all right," she said. "It is only water. I will go and change and return momentarily." She reached down to pick up the bowl on the floor, carrying it with her as she left the room.

Gustave turned his attention back to his sister. He was not in the mood to coddle her, doctor's words to the contrary. "What is wrong with you?"

"I cannot do this," Annalise told him as she broke down into tears. Annalise struggled to sit up as the sobs turned into coughs shaking her entire body, taking her breath away. "I cannot breathe," Annalise gasped as her arms stretched out, fingers looking for something to hold onto.

Gustave sat on the bed, instantly contrite, drawing her into his arms. Dominic was at their sides a second later. He took hold of Annalise's flailing hands in one of his own, taking her chin in his other hand. He caught her frightened, panicked look and held it.

"Annalise," Dominic said. "You must stop crying and listen to me." He watched as his patient struggled with her sobs, gasping for air. "I need you to breathe with me." Dominic exaggerated his own breathing, the pattern of in and out smooth and easy, deep and long.

Annalise stared into his eyes and heard his words, listening to the breath sounds the doctor made. She fought through the remembered feeling of fingers tightening about her throat, the surety of knowing Death was but a heartbeat away. She could feel her brother's chest against her back, the pattern of his breaths following those of the doctor. After a few moments, Annalise's breathing eased; her sharp gasps fading into deep breathes that evened out allowing her muscles to relax.

"That's good," Dominic told her as he let go of her hands. "That is very good." He smiled at her and returned to his notes.

"Please do not scare me like that," Gustave said as felt his sister relax in his arms.

Annalise turned around in her brother's arms so that she could look at him. "I am so sorry," she said as the tearscontinued to flow. "What have I done?"

"Nothing," Gustave told her with a shake of his head. "None of this is your fault."

"It is all my fault," Annalise replied and cried out as the pain began again.

Gustave refused to let his sister go and held onto her, ignoring the pain in his chest as Annalise wrapped her arms tightly about his neck. That was how their mother found them when she returned some twenty minutes later, wrapped in each other's arms, Annalise crying softly, Gustave whispering inaudible words to her. Christine stood silently in the doorway, burning the sight into her memory, praying it would not be one of the last things she would remember about her only daughter.

Gustave had heard the opening of the door and turned his head. The movement caused Annalise to follow his look and she saw her mother smiling at her. Annalise took her arms from about her brother's neck and held them out to her mother.

"Maman," she cried.

Christine crossed the room to take her daughter in her arms. Gustave gently eased himself from the bed to sit in one of the chairs. He bit the inside of his lip as the dull ache in his chest radiated outwards not wishing to distract from the attention his sister needed.

"I am sorry," Annalise told her mother. "I do not know what is happening to me."

"We shall get through this," Christine whispered as she held her child close. "All of us will find the strength to get you through this." She drew back and gave her daughter a small smile. "Your father has someone to see you." Christine turned her attention to the door. "Raoul."

Raoul's tall frame filled the doorway and he moved aside to allow Andrew to enter.

"Annalise," Andrew said as he entered the room.

Christine stood, allowing Andrew to take her place, watching as he drew Annalise into his arms. She moved to stand next to her husband, reaching out for his hand, only to find Raoul had placed both hands into his pockets. Christine raised a questioning face to her husband.

"I have asked Andrew and Katherine to stay the next few days," Raoul told her softly. "I think it would be best if they were here."

"I agree," Christine replied, her hand going to his arm. "What are you not telling me? Is there something I should know about?"

Raoul sighed heavily. "No," he lied for the first time in his married life.

Christine knew he was lying. "Raoul."

"Christine, please," he said as he stared deeply into the eyes of the woman he had loved since childhood, "let this be."

A loud gasp from Annalise caught their attention before Christine could say anything.

"Oh God," Annalise cried out.

"What is wrong?" Andrew wanted to know as Annalise pulled away from him, her hands gripping the front of his jacket.

"I can make this work," Annalise said, her eyes glazed and distant. "I promise. I will do whatever you want. I will crawl. I will beg. I will do anything you ask." A shaking hand reached up to palm Andrew's cheek. "Anything," she whispered desperately. "Just give me something to make the pain stop."

Her words chilled the hearts and souls of everyone in the room.

"Annalise, it is Andrew." A puzzled expression on his face as he replied. Andrew looked at Annalise and did not see the girl with whom he fallen in love and it frightened him. "Annalise," he said as he reached up for the hand against his face and drew it to his lips. "It's Andrew and I love you."

There was silence in the room; everyone watching as Annalise fought her way through the pain and confusion.

"Andrew?" Annalise finally whispered, her clear eyes focusing on his face, before they rolled up into her head and she collapsed against him.


	41. Chapter Forty One

**Chapter Summary:** Andrew's slip of the tongue reveals the identity of Annalise's savior to her brothers. Christine defends Erik to her children. And in the middle of a summer night Annalise's battle with drug withdrawal reaches its climax.

_**Warning:** You might want to have your tissues handy for this one._

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

The next three days passed in an anguished blur for Annalise and those that loved her. It would be a time when the very fabric of lives would be shredded by the sharp edges of guilt and recrimination. It would be a time that Annalise would never recall and her loved ones would never forget. The days would pass in the heat and humidity of an August in Paris, the heavy atmosphere outside the house matched by the heightened intensity within. It seemed - to those who looked outwards from personal demons - that the walls of the house for which Raoul and Christine had so lovingly cared were all that kept the two charged atmospheres from crashing into each other in a burst of energy consuming all in its path. As Annalise had collapsed into Andrew's arms, no one knew just how close that burst of energy was to fulfilling its destiny.

"I cannot leave her now," Andrew had insisted as he paced the hallway outside the closed door to Annalise's bedroom, her family close by as the doctor examined his unconscious patient.

"I will have your things sent for," Raoul told him, his voice strangely calm. He looked at Katherine. "I believe your things are still here."

"They are," Katherine said as she kept a cautious eye on her brother. She longed to reach out and touch him but recognized the angry gleam in his eyes and knew enough to stay her embrace.

"I should have never made that ridiculous promise to him," Andrew said as his fists clenched and unclenched.

"What promise and to whom?" Gustave wondered.

Andrew stopped his pacing, his teeth clenched, an angry expression on his handsome features. "I promised Erik I would not kill Michaud. God! I wish I had never made that promise!"

So wrapped up in his own anger and fears was Andrew that he did not see the expressions that crossed the faces of those around him at the mention of the name that passed his lips. They were expressions of horror and wonderment; save for the expression on one face that bore a look of pained resignation. Suddenly Andrew realized what he had said and silently cursed himself.

"It is all right, Andrew," Raoul said softly. "They would have needed to know sooner or later." He ignored the startled looks from his children as the door to Annalise's room opened and Christine came out. "How is she?"

"She is awake but barely," Christine said, her brows knitted in worry. "The fever keeps climbing ..." She finally noticed the expressions on the faces of the people around her. "What is wrong? I do not think I have the energy to deal with anything else."

"They know," Raoul said simply, watching as his wife composed her features, not wanting to know what was going on beneath her calm demeanor.

"My fault, I am afraid," Andrew told her. "I let it slip. I did not mean to do so ..."

"Into the sitting room," Christine interrupted him as she crossed the hall, opening the door. There was no reaction. "Now," she ordered them in a tone of voice that meant nothing less than full obedience. Christine waited until everyone had entered the sitting room, stopping Raoul before he could enter. "Go to Annalise," she told him. "Your daughter needs you more than I do." Christine closed the door behind her and did not hear the soft whisper from her husband.

"That is all too painfully clear," came the words as Raoul crossed the hall in the opposite direction, disappearing into Annalise's bedroom, not truly wanting to know what Christine would say to their children.

Christine told her children the truth - that the man known as the "Opera Ghost" had saved their sister's life. She told them how Annalise knew of him and how long he had lived in the ruined monastery. Andrew filled in the parts that Christine did not know - the story of his time with Erik, the fight on the stairs and the fact that it was Erik who had been left to deal with Michaud.

"Maybe he killed him," Gustave muttered darkly.

"No!" Christine exclaimed. "Do not even say such a thing. You do not know him." Her voice lowered, her expression growing soft. "There is enough blood on his hands and I would not have any more there. They are hands that are meant to create not kill." Christine inhaled deeply, putting aside her own feelings. "It is enough that he risked his life to bring your sister back to us." Christine studied her children's faces, a look of fierce determination on her own. "Let him be!" she cautioned them.

Her words startled her children into stunned silence for a few moments.

"Does Father know?" Richard wondered.

"Yes," Christine replied gently, thinking for a moment. "I need you all to know something; whatever occurs between your father and I from this point forward, it is something that must be resolved. No matter what happens, I will always love each of you and that is something that will never change. But," she warned, "I will hear nothing against Erik, is that understood?" She did not wait for answer but returned to Annalise, leaving her children sitting in stunned silence.

"How could you?" Jean-Paul broke the silence as he stood, grabbing Andrew's arm.

"What?" Andrew snapped back.

"How could you go to that man? Do you know what you have done?"

Andrew brusquely removed himself from Jean-Paul's grasp. "And what is it you would have had me do? Your friend," he emphasized the words, "shot your brother, abducted your sister and shot me." He did not hear his sister's gasp. "I knew the country and knew of Erik. I saw the signpost in the road and did what I had to do. I would do it again, understand?"

"How did you know of those things?" Jean-Paul wondered. "What is it you have been doing here?"

"Just a moment," Gustave started and stopped as his brother turned on him.

"Stay out of this!" Jean-Paul warned and turned his attention back to Andrew. "I am waiting for an answer."

"I have been falling in love with your sister," Andrew told him. "I have been searching the country for a vineyard to purchase; that is why I knew the roads. I have been talking to my sister and discovered your sister's secrets in that manner. Those are your answers." Andrew turned his back on the room.

"Andrew," Richard said as he rose to his feet.

"No." Andrew kept his back to them, shaking his head. "I am not such a fool as to imagine any of you would find me a match for your sister." He turned back to them, grim and angry. "But I love Annalise and the only way I am leaving her is if she asks or your parents forbid it. None of you can do anything to change that."

Gustave stared at his eldest brother. "What is your problem?"

"Nothing you would understand." Jean-Paul set his chin.

Now it was Gustave's turn to get to his feet. "Truly? May I chance a guess?" He took a single step forward. "What did Annalise say to you? Did she say that she hates you?" There was no response and a smirk crossed Gustave's lips. "She told you it was your fault, did she not?" He laughed grimly as he watched Jean-Paul's face. "She did. I can see it on your face. You are such a fool."

"That is uncalled for!" Therese said, reacting to the insult even if her husband did not.

"Do you think Annalise even knows what she is saying?" Gustave continued, ignoring his sister-in-law. "You heard what the doctor told us, she may not even remember any of this. Can you honestly stand there and tell me that this is your fault?"

"She did and it is!" Jean-Paul nearly shouted.

"You are not the one who had to watch him take her because you did not react quickly enough," Gustave replied quietly.

"But you are the hero," Jean-Paul told him. "You are the one who got shot trying to save her."

Therese stamped her foot before Gustave could shout back his angry retort. "Do you think I want you shot? Do you?" She flung up her hands. "If you think that, then you are the fool your brother believes you to be!"

"I can find a gun and shoot you, if that you want to know what it is like." Gustave's anger was growing.

"That is enough!" Richard said as he stepped between his two brothers before they could come to blows. "You are both acting like fools."

Jean-Paul looked down his nose at his brother. "This from the perfect child who never did anything wrong."

"I am not perfect," Richard insisted, "but this insane bickering will accomplish nothing!"

"I can shoot you, as well," Gustave insisted, "if you think me insane."

Leonie rose to her feet and flounced angrily over to Gustave. She grabbed him by the arm. "If you say that one more time, I will ..."

"You will what?" Gustave spat.

"Not at my wife," Richard warned him as he grabbed the shirtfronts of both his brothers; it got their attention. Richard looked from one brother to the other and shook his head sadly. "No wonder Annalise thinks we do not love each other anymore." His next words plunged the room into a haunted stillness. "No wonder she thinks we do not love her."

The hurt and pain, the guilt, the anger and fear were the invisible partners around the family and they gripped the people in a frenzied dance. They whirled around and around, moving from person to person, as each emotion was embraced, acknowledged and shed. Slowly - as each felt their personal demons flee - the haunted stillness broke apart and became a shared pained silence.

"Kitt," Andrew said as he held out his hand for his sister, breaking the silence. He waited until he had his sister's hand in his own. "You are all fools," he said. "When we first found your sister she was so confused and so frightened and so certain that none of you would want her back after what he said and did to her. She did not even know if you were real." Andrew sighed and shook his head. "All Annalise wanted to do was come home and at this moment, for the life of me, I do not understand why." He took his free hand and brushed away the tears from his sister's cheek. "You are pathetic," he told them before leading Katherine out the door, a stunned family in their wake.

Raoul and Christine heard the sound of slamming doors as they sat with their daughter.

"They did not take that well," Raoul said. He sat on his daughter's bed, his back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, Annalise lying by his side, her head in his lap, both arms resting across his legs.

"Neither did you," Christine replied softly as she held her daughter's hands, trying to get Annalise to focus on her face.

"What do you want from me?" Raoul wondered; a hand gently stroking his daughter's back as she trembled in silence.

"Want my parents," came the whisper from Annalise. It drew their attention.

Christine cautiously placed a hand on her daughter's face. "Papa and I are right here with you."

Annalise did not hear her. "Please," she continued. "I will not tell. I just want to go home."

Dominic came across the room and bent over Annalise, reaching out to feel her forehead. He was surprised when she grabbed his hand.

"You can stay," Annalise told him, her eyes focused on something beyond her mother. "If I let you do what you wish will you let me go?" Her eyes closed briefly before opening again. "I just want to go home." She grew silent again.

"Oh Annalise," came Raoul's pained whisper, one hand continuing to massage her back as the other found its way into his wife's. "You are home."

Christine echoed her husband's tone. "What has he done to you?" She raised her eyes to Dominic. "What is happening?"

"Laudanum is fine in very small doses, on occasion and given under a doctor's supervision for it affects the way the mind functions," Dominic said, studying his patient and addressing her parents. "When the drug is abused, the mind may do strange things. Annalise may have more of these periods when her mind is not aware of its surroundings."

Raoul looked down at his daughter. "Are we ever going to get her back?" he asked sadly.

"We have at least two more days before the majority of the drug is out of her system, I believe." He shook his head and straightened. "We will know more once that happens. I would like to send for a nurse." He held up a hand at Raoul and Christine's startled reaction. "Annalise is going to need the care and I am going to need the help."

"Whatever you require," Raoul told him and watched as Dominic nodded and left the room. He turned his attention back to his daughter who was, again, growing restless. Raoul bent over to kiss her head.

"You promised to stay," Annalise said, her head lifting, eyes focusing on her father.

"I am not leaving," Raoul assured her, helping her to a sitting position. "Is that better?"

Annalise managed a brief smile before the pain began to tear across her mid-section again. She wrapped her arms tightly about her father's waist and buried her head in his chest. "It hurts so much," she cried in small gasps.

Raoul drew his daughter tighter into his arms. "You hold onto me as long as you need," he whispered against her head.

As she watched her husband and child, Christine bit back her tears. Raoul was such a good father; he had always been patient and loving with their children. When he had lost his temper with them, the rebuke was stern, the punishment deserved but they had never seen him out of control. It had always been there, Christine mused to herself, that calm control. Raoul had always been quietly strong, even and steady - everything a husband and father should be. Not like ... Her thoughts were interrupted by her daughter.

Annalise was trying to pull away from her father, her eyes glazed again. "Do not say that!" she was whispering between her sobs. "My mother did not give up passion! She loves my father!" A stunned Raoul let his daughter go and she rolled over onto her side. "I hate you and if you touch me again, I will kill myself."

Raoul looked at Christine who was as stunned as he by the words that had escaped their daughter's lips. "Out of the mouths of babes," he said softly.

Christine had nothing to say.

Over the following hours, as day drifted away into night, Annalise's condition continued to deteriorate. Family and loved ones drifted in and out of her room, watching in quiet worry as the pain grew in intensity, the periods of hold over its victim lengthening. During those times Annalise would hold onto the nearest person, her grip incredibly strong, as she rode wave after wave of agony that filled her entire being. During the interludes when the pain relinquished its hold, Annalise would lose herself in drug-induced, fevered hallucinations, speaking to an unseen presence, giving those about her insight into the nightmare from which she had been rescued. Even those moments began to disappear as the night deepened, the fever climbed and the pain increased causing Annalise's mind to withdraw further into itself. The nurse that Dominic had sent for now tended to basic needs, keeping her patient clean and comfortable, bathing her fevered skin in cool water, assisting the doctor in monitoring her condition, freeing those who loved her to do just that - love her.

"You must get some sleep," Christine told Raoul.

It was nearly four in the morning when she had awakened to find him gone from their bed. She had reached over to find his side of the bed cold and unslept in and she had buried her face in his pillow, wishing that he would tell her what he was thinking and knowing that he would not. He was closing her out and while she could attribute Raoul's distance to his concern for Annalise, Christine knew there was another reason with another name and she felt a new fear invade her heart. She had lost so much in her life surely he would not leave her, too. Christine had sat up, reaching for her dressing gown, wonderingif she had ever truly known any of the men in her life. She had walked out of the bedroom knowing where her husband would be found.

"Raoul, please," she tried again. "You cannot have had any sleep all night. I will stay with her."

"I have not had any sleep and I am not leaving her," Raoul replied. His wife was going to slip through his grasp and he was not going to let his daughter do the same. Raoul reached his free hand out to caress his daughter's head as he felt her grip tighten on the hand she held. Words no longer came with the pain just the tightening of muscles that caused Annalise's entire body to shake uncontrollably.

Christine walked around and sat in the chair next to Raoul. "Then I shall stay with you."

"As you wish," Raoul said. His attention was focused on his daughter so he did not see the look of disappointment that crossed his wife's face.

It was nearly noon before Raoul was finally convinced to try and get a few hours of restless sleep. He had been reluctant but when his sons threatened to carry him bodily from their sister's room, Raoul had relented. He had made them promise to wake him in a few hours or if there was any change in Annalise's condition. Raoul had stood, forcing legs he could no longer feel to walk out the door. He had encountered Andrew sitting dejectedly on one of the chairs in the hall.

"I see they have banished you, as well," Raoul told him. "Andrew," he motioned for the young man to follow him into the sitting room. Raoul waited until Andrew was in the room before closing the door. "Where is he?" Raoul closed his eyes briefly, blinking back the memories. "I am sure he would not leave until he knows of my daughter's condition."

"There is a townhouse in Paris that belongs to the embassy. I have secured one of the apartments and told Erik to wait for me there." Andrew heaved a deep sigh. "I did promise him that I would bring news as soon as I could."

"Will you do me a courtesy?" Raoul asked and watched as Andrew cocked his head. "All I want is for you to send Regine to this apartment to wait for Erik and bring him here. I am not going to do anything to him, before you even ask; but - you are right - he deserves to know about Annalise and she will want to see him. Will you do that for me? Will you send for him?"

"Yes, sir," Andrew replied with a nod.

"Thank you," Raoul said softly. "I believe when all of this is over and Annalise is recovered, you and I shall have a future to discuss."

"If she will still have me."

Raoul gave Andrew a brief smile. "I am sure she will," Raoul told him before leaving the sitting room to get a few hours of much needed sleep and a change of clothes.

The rest of that day and the next brought no welcoming change to those who moved about the great house, watching and worrying. Sleep eluded Annalise as the pain that encompassed her was joined by a nausea that caused dry heaves to wrack her already exhausted body. She could no longer find the energy to move from where she lay on her bed, curled on her side, arms draped over the edge of the mattress. She did not feel her loved ones as they held her, did not hear their words of encouragement, could not see their concerned faces. Annalise was lost in a world that no one else could enter. It was a world that would hold her in its tight fist slowly, grudgingly giving ground as the drug she had been force-fed worked its way out of her system. It oozed through her pores, gathering in the sweat that covered her body in a fine sheen. It wafted away with every breath she exhaled. It was the poison in the tears that Annalise was not even aware she cried.

Finally, almost four days to the minute from when she had returned home, Annalise began to be aware - once again - of her surroundings. The change was subtle at first, a small movement in the arms that hung over the edge of the bed; Annalise had lifted them back onto the bed. No one thought much of it, except for the nurse who had quickly roused the doctor from his needed sleep. Dominic had looked at his patient, seeing the glaze that had hidden her eyes for the last days slowly beginning to dissipate. He noted her feeble attempt to pull away when he had taken her hand. He had kept careful watch over the next several hours, knowing her family was finally able to see the change, bringing small smiles to their faces and chasing away the darkness that had enfolded them. Yet Dominic had been hesitant to promise them something he could not guarantee for Annalise's pulse still raced and her fever had not broken as the worst of the drug withdrawal faded away. His grim expression did not go unnoticed.

"What is it?" Raoul wanted to know as he and Christine stood with the doctor. They were alone in the upstairs sitting room, the door closed. It was late in the afternoon and Annalise, still unable to sleep, was being kept company by Richard and Leonie.

"What are you not telling us?" Christine added, her fear evident in the expression on her face.

"I do not know how much longer Annalise can continue on this way," Dominic told them slowly and evenly. "She was already weakened from her ordeal and what she has just endured has only weakened her further. She has barely slept in almost five days. Her fever continues to climb and her pulse continues to race."

"What are you saying?" Raoul was surprised he could voice the question for he was sure he was not breathing.

There was no easy way to tell a parent their child may die. "If the fever does not break soon, I do not know if Annalise will sur ..."

"Do not say it!" Christine interrupted him and grabbed the front of Raoul's shirt. "You tell him not to say it!" she pleaded.

"How much longer?" Raoul asked, ignoring - for the moment - the terrified woman in his arms and his own fears.

Dominic scratched his forehead. "Late tonight or early tomorrow, perhaps. It is hard to tell with things like this but something must give."

Christine shook her husband. "Not my child. Not my child!"

Raoul drew his wife into his arms, knowing there were no words of comfort he could find to ease both of their fears. He could feel Christine's small fists beating against his chest, her tears starting to wet his shirt.

"Dear God, please!" Christine cried. "Not now, not now."

"You should prepare your family," Dominic told them.

So it was that in the wee hours of the next morning, while the rest of the world dreamed away in contented slumber, Annalise's loved ones gathered in her softly lit bedroom. The room was silent except for the sound of Annalise's labored breathing. She lay on her bed, propped up by pillows to aid her in drawing air into congested lungs. She tried to focus on the shadows surrounding her, knowing they watched and waited for something. She looked at the doctor as he placed cool fingers around her wrist, checking her pulse.

"Tired," she said.

"I know," Dominic replied gently.

"Cannot do this," Annalise breathed as she turned her head, attempting to focus on her parents standing at the foot of the bed. "Too hard."

Raoul felt the woman in his arms draw in a sharp startled breath.

"It is all right," a soft voice said from her side.

Annalise managed a small smile as she looked at the man kneeling at her bedside, his hands gently holding one of hers. "Andrew," she said.

"You need to rest," Andrew replied softly, reaching one of his hands to move a strand of damp hair from her fevered brow. He heard what he was saying, what he was telling her and it broke his heart. Yet Andrew knew that love was not supposed to hold tight but let go; it was a lesson he had learned from the family history that had brought everyone to this point. "I will be right here when you awaken and then we can plan our wedding, if you will still have me," he said with a smile. "I will give you my life if it will make you happy."

"I love you," Annalise managed to whisper as she strained to breathe, her chest rising and falling in exaggerated motion.

Andrew raised her hand to his lips. "I love you."

"So tired," Annalise told him, a small sad smile crossing her lips, her eyes slowly closing. "I am sorry." Her voice trailed off.

Andrew did not notice that every person in the shadowed bedroom stopped living as the room grew quiet, the raspy sound of Annalise's breathing fading into the surrounding darkness. He did not notice as Leonie and Therese turned to bury their faces in their husband's chests, Richard and Jean-Paul both drawing their wives close, their shoulders beginning to shake. He did not notice as Gustave and Katherine found each other, their arms reaching out, pulling near. He did not notice that Christine's knees began to buckle, Raoul struggling to hold her up as his own knees threatened to give way.

All Andrew noticed was the small hand that still rested upon his own. He looked at it curiously as the skin that had for so long been burning with fever began to cool, the sheen of sweat beginning to evaporate. He felt the racing pulse begin to slow. Finally, Andrew watched in amazement as the tiny hand slipped from his own to fall silently to the dark blue satin coverlet where it lay limp and still.


	42. Chapter Forty Two

_Author's Note: This chapter is a gift to my two beta-readers, John and Jean. I know they will recognize the names of their characters in the names of the horses. It is a little gift in honor of all they have done to make this story better than I could have done on my own. _

Summary: Erik discovers what happened to Annalise when he answers Raoul's summons. Twenty-six years after their final encounter, Raoul, Christine and Erik come together. And Raoul gives his wife a gift.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The ride to the estate south of Paris seemed to take forever in the late morning congestion that was common in large cities. The coach weaved its way through the city streets, the horses carefully guided by the experienced hands of Regine. He went as quickly as the traffic would allow. Yet it still took almost two hours to traverse the city from the northwest corner where the townhouse was located nearby the American embassy to the southern gates that led from the main city into the green avenues where the great houses were located. Regine was grateful that he had taken one of the coaches for it allowed him to remain distant from the man tucked away behind the black coach doors; he had no desire to answer questions for which he did not have answers. Nor did he wish to watch the expressions that crossed that man's face - the intensity of them would cause any man to quake.

Erik was, in fact, aggravated, irritated, cautious and worried in turn. His fingers drummed on the velvet of the seat cushions, now the only outward sign of the emotions that raged within him. The ride from the apartment that Andrew had secured allowed Erik the time to do what he had spent his entire life doing - hiding his emotions within the shadows of his mind. To say that he had been stunned to find Regine waiting in the apartment when he, Tomas and Charles had arrived would have been an understatement. Hearing the command voiced as a gentle request from his old adversary had sent Erik's emotions racing back to a past he had no wish to remember but could not forget. The fact that Regine would say nothing of Annalise or Andrew only added to Erik's growing apprehension. He found he could not even think of Christine for thoughts of her sent his blood racing and his head spinning. It was all too much for Erik, in his tired state, to bear so he sent all the feelings for mother and daughter to the back of his mind and instead concentrated on that foolish little boy and what it was he was planning. Erik found he could not fathom what Raoul wanted and that bothered him.

Whatever thoughts of Raoul were going through Erik's mind were suddenly chased away as the coach slowed. Erik looked out the window and saw two large wrought iron gates, a gilded crest in the middle of each, opening to allows the coach to drive through. He continued to look out the window at the vast expanse of green lawns and gaily colored flower beds with nary a shadow to be found. Erik was tempted to roll his eyes; someone had done their very best to banish all darkness and he knew how futile such an endeavor could be for without darkness there could be no light. The house that loomed in at the end of the drive drew Erik's attention from his thoughts of darkness and light, night and day. He sighed inwardly; at least Christine had been comfortable all these years. Erik wondered if the creature comforts that the boy had given her had also brought her happiness.

"I am thinking too much," Erik said to himself as the coach stopped. He placed a hand inside his pocket, feeling for the small revolver that had been there since he had left for England. Erik was not about to fall prey to any one's plans - especially the plans of that boy. He drew a deep breath and waited until the door opened.

"Come with me, please," Regine said as he stood aside, allowing Erik to exit the coach. Regine walked up the portico stairs trusting that Erik would follow. He opened the door to find the familiar footman waiting in his usual chair. "Monsieur le Vicomte?"

"He is in his study," the footman replied in a quiet tone of voice, no emotion betrayed on his face as he watched the strange man who followed Regine down the hallway.

Erik had noted the footman, his quiet tone and composed features. He had to give the boy credit for his servants were well trained. Yet Erik found something out of place in the grand house into which he had ventured. He pondered upon this as he followed Regine down the hallway and decided that the home was too quiet. There was no sound. No voices could be heard behind the closed doors and they did not echo down the long halls. There were no servants scurrying about on their daily chores. There was no sign of the children and grandchildren he knew existed. There was no sign of Christine. Surely with the return of Annalise, the family would have gathered in joy to support her. The atmosphere of the home, though, was cold and somber, almost as if there had been a death. Erik quickly willed that thought from his mind but found it would not go as easily as he had wished. Perhaps that was the reason Regine was not willing to answer his questions and confined him to the back of that damnable coach. Erik was drawn out of his reverie by a knock on a door and an all too familiar voice.

"Come," Raoul's voice responded to the knock on the door of his study.

Regine opened the door and turned to Erik. "This is where we must part company."

"You know what to do," Raoul's voice came from the study.

"_Oui, Monsieur_," Regine replied and stepped aside to let Erik enter. He gave Erik a small smile and a brief nod before closing the door behind him.

The two old enemies were left alone behind a closed door.

Erik stood, without his mask, proud, refusing to be vulnerable, waiting for the man who looked out the window to turn around and face him. He was amazed at the sight that met his eyes when Raoul turned.

"Monsieur, I bid you welcome," Raoul said in a soft voice.

Erik raised an eyebrow at the very words he had used to welcome Raoul that night in his lair.

"There are no traps here," Raoul quickly added as he walked from behind his desk to sit in one of the chairs in front of it. "I pray you will forgive my lack of manners but I have not slept much these last two weeks." He waved Erik to the other chair. "Do not stand on formality, monsieur."

Erik waited a moment before sitting to study the man in front of him. He had always thought of Raoul as "that boy" and he was finally forced to admit that Raoul was no longer "that boy". What Erik saw in front of him had not changed greatly over the years, the fine, sharp features were still there; Raoul was still the light to Erik's dark. Yet the sandy blonde hair was now streaked with gray and there was a definite sadness about the bright blue eyes. Erik had to admit to himself that "the boy" was long gone, replaced by a man who could prove to be a formidable opponent. Yet he was concerned about the sadness he saw in Raoul, about the quiet house, the somber mood.

"If you wish to stand, then stand," Raoul said as he leaned forward in his chair and buried his face in his hands. He heard the leather of the chair opposite him give way as Erik sat and Raoul raised his head.

"You commanded my presence, I believe," Erik said as he leaned back in the chair, his legs crossing, his hands folding in his lap.

"I thought you would wish to know about Annalise."

Not "my daughter" but "Annalise". Raoul's words chilled Erik but he kept his emotions under control, not wishing to betray anything in front of this man. "I would very much like to know how Mademoiselle fares."

"You can call her by name," Raoul said, his tone carried a trace of irritation. "I know you befriended her. We found your letter to her when ..." Raoul turned his head for a moment and then looked back. "Annalise is upstairs with her mother and Andrew and hopefully she is finally getting the sleep she so desperately needs."

"I had thought that," Erik began and then changed his mind.

"That she had died?" Raoul interrupted and shook his head. "She almost did." Raoul leaned back in his own chair, blinking away tears. "Two nights ago, Annalise came out of the drug withdrawal but her fever did not break. Our doctor warned us that she could not go on as she had been without something giving way. We had all gathered in her bedroom. She actually said it was too hard and she could not do it. Annalise grew quiet, we could no longer hear her breathing and we thought she was gone." Raoul closed his eyes, chasing away the sights from those early morning hours. "It turned out the fever had broken and Annalise was finally sleeping normally. I never thought it possible for a person to live and die only to live again in a single heartbeat until that moment."

"It is something I have known for a great many years," Erik replied softly. He watched as Raoul's eyes opened and recognized the haunted look in them. Somewhere inside he was amused that they shared something in common besides their love for the two women upstairs. "There are not words to tell you how relieved I am to know that Annalise is back with those that love her and that she is on her way to recovering."

"It is a long road to a full recovery. Her lungs are still congested, she is very weak and she must sleep. Our doctor believes it will be another fortnight before her mind is physically healed. I do not even wish to know how long it will take before her soul is healed." Raoul's gaze was focused on something Erik could not see. "I just wish to have my daughter well and happy once more." He turned his focus back to Erik and there was a decidedly deadly gleam in Raoul's eyes. "What did you do with the bastard who did this to my child?"

It was another surprise to Erik to see that cold willingness to kill in Raoul's eyes. He did not think the boy ... Raoul ... had the capability for such a calculated evil. Perhaps, Erik mused to himself, I do not understand for I am not a parent whose child nearly died. A child, who had died, he corrected himself, remembering the feelings of helplessness and despair he had felt upon finding Annalise on the floor of that place, not breathing; it was something her family did not need to know. It was also something that allowed him to understand the deadly cold look in Raoul's eyes. Erik did love Annalise as a friend and a daughter and he had wanted to kill Michaud. It was another revelation of something he had in common with the Vicomte.

"He is England," Erik replied, "where he will remain for the rest of his life. There is an asylum some distance from Portsmouth and it is there that Deschene will live out his remaining years, drugged and bound. I thought it appropriate punishment for what he had done to Annalise is now being done unto him. Is that not what the church teaches - do unto others?"

Raoul found he could not fault Erik for twisting the teachings of the church for the very words Erik had spoken reflected his own desires. "How will you afford the cost of keeping him there?" Raoul wondered. "I need to know for I do not wish Annalise to ever again fear for her life."

"I assure you that Annalise need never fear from him again and the cost is of no concern to you."

"I beg to differ!" Raoul snapped. It earned him a raised eyebrow from Erik, a cynical reminder of the past. "Just tell me where this place is and I shall bear the cost of keeping that bastard locked away. It will take no more than the swipe of a pen to ensure that funds are transferred to the hospital accounts each month." There was no answer. "Please let me do this."

"Why?" Erik wanted to know.

Raoul sat up straight, drawing in a deep breath. He caught Erik's eye and held it. "Because I owe you a debt I can never hope to repay." His voice grew gentle. "I owe you my daughter's life."

What Erik might or might not have said was forestalled by the sound of a knock on the study door. Erik watched as the color quickly drained from Raoul's face. He also noted how just as quickly the man opposite him composed his features before standing and walking to the door. Erik kept his eyes focused on the world beyond the study's windows, not wishing to intrude but wondering how much longer this interview would go on. He longed to see for himself that Annalise was alive and recovering. He also desperately longed to see Christine but dared not hope that Raoul would grant him that privilege no matter how great the debt Raoul felt was owed. So it was with a startled gasp that Erik rose to his feet at the sound of the voice coming from behind him.

"Raoul, could this not have waited?" Christine asked. "One of us should be with Annalise."

"There is someone you need to see," Raoul said and stepped aside to let his wife enter the study.

"Christine," Erik breathed as he turned around to face her.

Christine froze in her tracks, her lips speaking the name of her teacher in silence. Her eyes flickered up to her husband's face. "Raoul?" she asked.

Raoul took his wife's hand and raised it to his lips; it gave him a precious moment to steel his resolve for what he was about to do. "I love you," he began and his gaze looked at Erik for a brief second. "And I owe this man a debt I can never hope to repay." Raoul returned his eyes to look at his wife's puzzled expression. "I have always known there was a bond between the two of you that I could never hope to understand."

Christine laid a hand on her husband's chest. "Raoul ..." she started.

Raoul covered her hand with one of his own. "Please," he interrupted, "let me finish this before I cannot." He gave Christine a brief smile before continuing. "I knew when we married that there was a part of you, a part of your heart and soul, that I could never have; yet I have been content with what I did have. These past years, being married to you, have been the happiest of my life and you have given me so much. You have been my friend and my counselor. You have been my refuge in times of sorrow and my joy when the sorrows passed." Raoul could feel his heart beating and breaking and chose to ignore it. "You have been my love and comfort through the long nights. You have given me three sons who are intelligent, strong men I am proud will carry on our family's name. You have given me a daughter whom I shall cherish far beyond the day I die." He raised a hand to rest it on Christine's cheek, a finger brushing at a stray tear. "You have given yourself all these years without ever asking for anything in return. Now I wish to repay the favor."

Erik found he could scarcely breath.

Christine was silent, her huge eyes trying desperately to read her husband's expressionless face.

"Christine," Raoul continued, "I want to give you the one thing you have never had; I want to give you the freedom to choose."

"What?" Christine exclaimed.

"What?" Erik echoed.

"That night," Raoul went on, giving a stunned Erik a quick look before returning his gaze to his equally stunned wife. "That night you faced a terrible predicament. You were forced into making a choice and that is something no one should ever be forced into. No one should ever be told to choose between one life and the next when those very lives hang upon that choice." Raoul gave Christine a sad smile. "I am giving you that freedom to choose now." He took his hand from her face so that he could hold both of hers. "I want you to know that whatever you decide, I will honor your decision. If you chose to leave with Erik, I will make it as easy as possible for you both. If you wish a divorce, I will make it as quick and painless as the law will allow me. I do not think that after the strain of these last two weeks any would question a separation between us and I will deny you nothing. You need not fear that you will never see your children and grandchildren again for I could not do such a thing to you. I will give you a settlement and anything else you may ever need. All I would ask is that you leave this home alone so that it may be turned over to Jean-Paul in due time."

"Raoul," Christine whispered with a cry in her voice.

"I would hope that you would stay with me but I will not make you."

"Why?" Christine shook the hands that held her own. "Why?"

Raoul took back one of his hands and placed in gently on Christine's cheek before running it down her neck to rest gently on her shoulder. "Because I love you. Because I have loved you since we were children even if I was too young to realize it at such a tender time in our lives. Because I watched Andrew two nights ago and he was strong enough to be willing to let Annalise go despite the fact that he loves her so very much." He reached his hand to hold Christine's chin. "We are taught by our children and I was taught well in that moment." Raoul turned to look at Erik. "Monsieur, you have my respect for the way in which you saved our daughter and my eternal gratitude for doing so." He turned back to Christine and gave her a gentle kiss. "I will always love you," he breathed softly before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

"Raoul?" Christine asked the closed door.

"Christine," Erik pleaded, his hands outstretched.

Raoul heard their voices as he closed the door and heaved a deep sigh, not wishing to know what would happen now that he had left. He turned on his heel and strode purposefully down the hallway and out onto the back portico. He moved quickly through the gardens and to the stables. Raoul stopped briefly at the stall of his daughter's horse, running his hand down Marie Cecile's neck. He smiled at the strawberry roan. "Annalise will be with you again. That is a promise." He heard the horse whinny as he walked to the back of the stable, a golden Arabian stallion saddled and waiting for him. The horse tossed his head as Raoul approached. "Thank you," Raoul said as the stable boy handed him the reins.

"Are you sure, Monsieur?" the stable boy asked. "Julian is in an especially spirited mood this day."

"It is just what I need," Raoul assured him, as he mounted Julian and turned the horse's head towards the open gate, spurring him onwards.

Raoul pushed Julian as hard as the horse would allow. They galloped over the fields, Julian strong and sure-footed as Raoul tried to outrun the past. Raoul finally pulled back on Julian's reins when he felt the chest muscles under his knees begin to quiver in a manner that bespoke the horse had been pushed to its limits. Raoul stopped the horse and slide from the saddle. He walked Julian over to a young oak tree and tied his reins to the thin but sturdy trunk before sinking to the ground. Raoul placed his head in his hands and sobbed as he finally granted himself permission to feel the emotions of the last two weeks and the emotions of the last twenty-six years. He would spend hours sitting in that sunny field till the sun began to travel to the west, the shadows lengthening as twilight made its presence known.

When he finally returned home, it would be a darkened, silent house into which Raoul would walk.


	43. Chapter Forty Three

**Chapter Summary:** Erik and Christine make peace with the past to find their futures.

_A/N - Lilies of the Valley were thought to be created from the tears that Mary shed at the foot of The Cross_

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

The click of the study door closing behind Raoul reverberated off the walls of the silent room like the click of a coffin lid shutting. The sound of it bounced off the polished wood of the walls, the clear glass windows that looked out upon a world that was open and alive. It bounced off the two peoplewho stood, back to front. One staring at the closed door and one staring at a silk-clad back held ramrod straight. It bounced off their hearts, minds and souls. The sound of it carried throughout the elegantly appointed room taking the two occupants back twenty-six years to the sound of another entrance that had closed, another coffin lid that had shut.

Christine stared at the knob of the door her husband had closed. She stared at it, a frown on her face, waiting for it to turn, to open. She stared it for she found she did not have the courage to turn around. She did not have the courage to look at him. She did not have the courage to see the anger, hurt and betrayal she was sure resided in those vibrant green eyes. Christine found she did not have the courage to face herself.

Erik stared at Christine's back, held so straight, so unyielding, his arms falling to his side. He stared at her, hope dying on his face as he waited for her to look at him. He stared at her, willing her to turn around. He did not know how much longer his resolve would hold before he crossed the room to take her in his arms. He wanted her to see the forgiveness and the compassion and the love in his eyes. Erik wanted to let the past go so he could find his future.

_Oh God_, Christine thought to herself, her own despair coloring her perceptions of his mind. _What kind of monster must he think me?_

_Oh God,_ Erik thought to himself, his own anguish translating into her feelings for him. _What kind of monster must she think me?_

_How will I ever face him?_ Christine wondered, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

_Please look at me!_ Erik pleaded silently, fear turning his limbs to ice.

Christine could feel the grip of remembered betrayal as she tried to find the strength to turn.

Erik found himself held tightly by the memories of a madness he had fought to forget.

_It is now or never._ Christine slowly turned, a movement catching her eye.

_Christine, please._ Erik's arms came up again as he caught her movement.

"Angel," Christine breathed as she took a hesitant step forward.

"Angel," Erik breathed, opening his arms wide.

It took but a heartbeat to cross the distance of the years that had separated them. Angel wings shed the weight of human emotion - fear, regret, despair - as teacher and student, angel and muse, man and woman freely flew across the room. Wings spread wide as arms opened, forgiving sins and wings enfolded as arms closed, welcoming home. The imprint of long ago embraces caused bodies to meld into each other, familiar curves and angles becoming one. Hands searched, found and touched, tracing landscapes altered by time but never forgotten. Eyes locked, fearful anticipation yielding to grateful reward as mutual forgiveness was exchanged in a single glance. Lips met, tentatively brushed then firmly held as joy unknown was released to fly through the ether; its music echoed by a choir of unseen heavenly beings.

"Oh God," Christine breathed as she drew back from the kiss, her eyes still locked with Erik's. Overwhelmed by a moment she had never thought to have, she buried her head in his shoulder, still holding him close, refusing to let him go.

Erik leaned his head against hers, his heart racing, pulse pounding. "I am not God," he whispered to her. "I am not an angel or a monster. I am just a man who has always loved you." He breathed her in - she smelled like lilies of the valley. _How appropriate_, Erik thought, _something sweet and precious born from tears of sorrow_.

It was Christine who finally broke the embrace. She cupped Erik's face in her hands, giving him a gentle smile, before leaning in to kiss him again before drawing back. "We must talk," she said as she reached up to brush away a tear at the corner of his eye. She turned her head to kiss the hand that wiped away her own tears. "But not here."

"No," Erik agreed. "Not here."

Christine took his hand and led him from Raoul's study, neither wishing to further betray the man who had - perhaps foolishly - given them this gift. She led Erik out the door and down the hallway back to the foyer and turned left down another hall. She stopped in front of another door, opening it and leading them into a small parlor furnished in shades of yellow and rose. It was a bright, sunny room and it echoed the lightness of being that was felt by the two people who took seats upon a sofa covered in yellow silk damask. Their hands remained clasped and their eyes continued to read the emotions that bubbled forth from deep within.

It was Erik who broke the silence between them. He took back one of his hands to trace it gently down Christine's cheek. "The years have been good to you," he said softly. "You are still as beautiful as ever."

"I am old," Christine said with a shake of her head.

"Never to me."

"And you," Christine said as she took her fingers to brush them lightly down his white hair, the unmarred skin of his face, watching as his eyes closed. "You look well."

"I am old."

They laughed together before lowering their heads, eyes unlocking, thoughts gathering. Suddenly the gulf of years was again growing into an insurmountable object. Christine felt his fingertips under her chin, lifting her head.

"Please, Christine," he pleaded. "Look at me."

Christine kept her eyes closed. "Why would you want to see me," she swallowed back tears, "after what I did to you?"

"Because I love you."

Christine opened her eyes. "Why would you chance coming here knowing you are still a wanted man?"

"Because I love you."

"Why would you trust like that?"

Erik shook his head. "Because I love you. Because I have always loved you." He smiled at her sadly. "Even if I did not know it until the moment you were willing to give up your future to save," he almost said "that boy", "his life."

"I do not know how you could love me," Christine said and laid a finger upon Erik's lips as his mouth opened. "Please, let me finish." She sighed. "You were there when I was a confused, grieving child. You gave me something that I was looking and longing for - you gave me my father's promise. You gave me my angel." Her head tilted. "You became my angel. You gave me your wisdom, your talent, your music. You gave me your friendship." Her chin trembled. "You gave me your love and I was too young and too foolish to appreciate what you were offering to me. You were so powerful and so intense and it frightened me for Ihad no compass to guide, no knowledge to understand the feelings you stirred within me." Christine smiled at him, her finger tracing his lips. "The passions you stirred within me." She shook her head. "I retreated behind Raoul and the love I felt for him. I let him make my decision for me for it was safer to do so than to face the storms that raged inside me. I was afraid of myself and I betrayed you because of that fear, because of my own uncertainty." She grew silent for a moment as her eyes searched Erik's. "I took everything you had ever been, ever given and with one unthinkable childish action I nearly destroyed you. I did destroy you."

Erik kissed the finger that still rested upon his lips.

"I want you to know that I would have stayed that night," Christine continued. "And not just because you would have spared Raoul's life." Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. "I would have stayed for us."

Erik took hold of Christine's finger and turned her hand so that he could kiss her palm. He then placed her hand in her lap and laid one of his fingers upon her lips. "Now," he began, "you shall listen to what I must say. When I first watched you in that chapel, I was little more than a child myself. Oh, not physically a child but emotionally a child. I had spent years locked away from a world that had shown me only cruelty and did not know that beyond those locked gates was more than I could have imagined. I did not know how to react other than to be a child who wanted his favorite plaything." His fingertip traced the outline of Christine's lips. "But it was not as a spoiled child that I watched you grow into a lovely young woman. I could see the potential within you for greatness and I wanted - I needed - to nurture that within you. I wanted the world to look at you and to see me. I wanted the world to stand in awe of me. I wanted them to look at what they had so thoughtlessly cast away." The smoldering passion in Erik's eyes sparked slightly. "I wanted the world to look at us and marvel at what we could accomplish together. At that point I was no longer a spoiled child but a selfish man who thought I could hold my angel's wings in a tight grasp. I thought I could make you stay by my side. I selfishly desired your talent, your voice, your company. I desired you." His hand cupped her cheek. "You speak of the passions I stirred within you but you stirred those same passions - and more - within me. Do you think you were the only one who was frightened of what was felt?"

"Yes," Christine whispered.

"No," Erik insisted with a shake of his head. "The depths of desire that I felt for you frightened me. Flames of passion were consuming me and I found I did not wish to escape them. I would willingly have died in those flames and taken you with me." He closed his eyes in pain. "God forgive me for innocent lives did perish in the conflagration of my passion." Erik opened his eyes again. "I thought that my burning desire for you was love." He gave Christine a small smile. "Like you I had no compass to know what it was to love. It is somewhat ironic, do you not think, that out of all of us it was only your husband who had some idea what it meant to love."

"But he would have had you dragged off to jail or worse!"

Erik sighed. "Christine, I have had many years to think upon the events of that night. If places had been switched and I was the man who was to marry you and saw another man who was doing the things I did, I think I would have done much the same as Raoul. I would have done whatever it was within my power and ability to do to ensure your safety and happiness." He paused for a moment. "I find it incredible that your husband would allow me into his home and give me this moment with you. I find it even more astonishing that you could still love me after all I did to you."

Christine lowered her eyes and gave a sad little laugh. "We are both quite pitiable and deserve each other."

"No," Erik exclaimed the force of his emotion causing Christine to raise her head. "You deserved what your husband has given you. You deserve to be surrounded by happiness and light. You deserve the love of your children and the laughter of your grandchildren." He touched her cheek lightly at the expression on her face at the mention of her grandchildren. "Annalise told me all about the family she loves." He waved a hand about him. "This is what I would have for you."

Christine grasped his hands tightly. "And what of you? Do you think I wanted you to spend a life in darkness?"

"Sweet angel," Erik replied softly. "My life has not been lived in darkness. That night, when you placed your ring into my hand and left with Raoul, I did despair. I was willing to spend my life in the depths of the hell that is under Paris. Yet, one day as I sat amongst the bones of those long dead and looked at the gift of light held in my hand, I realized that the best way I could honor what you did for me was to live. I needed to live openly and honestly. I needed to see the world for what is was and everything it could offer me. The world needed to see me for what I was and learn that there was a beating, feeling heart beneath the horror of my face."

"Brave words," Christine interrupted him.

"Brave words to which I did not always live up to but I did try." He gave her a smile. "I have seen the world, Christine, and it is frightening and disappointing. It is also wonderful with great riches in even the most humble of circumstances. That was your gift to me - a chance to find a life beyond myself. It was your courage to sacrifice yourself for him, your courage to embrace me in a way I had only ever dreamed about, your courage to face a life beyond yourself and your dreams that gave me the courage to live my life." He took her hand and placed it upon his heart. "Do you feel that?"

Christine nodded.

"That is what you did for me." Erik caught her gaze and held it softly, without coercion. "You gave me something I never thought to have. You have me a heart. You began to put back together the broken little boy that I was and your precious daughter finished putting together the man."

"What?" Christine was confused.

"That is something I wish to share with your daughter, if I may."

"Annalise would be disappointed with me if I did not bring you to her," Christine said.

They studied each other for another long moment.

"Just tell me you have been happy with him," Erik finally said.

"I have," Christine replied with a nod and a sigh. "It was not easy at first. Society did not approve of us and there was trouble in Paris."

"As well I know." Erik thought back to all the bodies - living and dead - that he had found in the tunnels under Pairs.

"Raoul took me to the country and it was there that I finally began to be comfortable in my marriage." Christine smiled softly, her look growing gentle. "Then the children started coming and I learned about a love that is completely and utterly open and unconditional. My children mean the world to me." Christine's gaze grew distant as she reached back into the years. "Once Richard, our second son, was born Society began to realize that Raoul's choice of a wife was not simply a passing fancy. We began to spend more and more time in Paris and worked our way back into society." She gave Erik a smile meant only for him. "I never forgot my angel, though; I would sing in church and I would occasionally sing at parties. My greatest joy, though, was singing for my children and teaching them all about music." Christine patted the beating heart under the hand she had never moved. "The music my angel had given me."

"And he has been a good husband and father?" Erik needed to be sure.

"He has been a wonderful father," Christine assured him. "Raoul has been the counterpoint to my fears that would have bound my children in darkness. He is the one who has given them their freedom. Our children would not be the people they are today if Raoul had not been there to teach and to guide, to correct and to love."

"And a husband?" Erik did not wish to hear but desperately needed to know.

"He defied the very world into which he was born to marry me and I am afraid that I did not fully appreciate what he did." Christine shook her head. "You were not the only one who behaved as a spoiled child. I gave him so many reasons to turn from me, to cast me away and Raoul was always patient, never judgmenta; and yet I do not mean for you to think that we do not have our disagreements for we do." She smiled at him. "It is all those passions that live within me, you understand; but Raoul is the calm to my storm. I could not have asked for a better husband." Her chin trembled and she dropped her eyes.

"What is it?" Erik wondered. "What is wrong?"

"These last two weeks have strained our marriage beyond the breaking point." Christine would not raise her eyes. "I do not know if we can put it back together."

It came down to this. Erik looked at the woman seated next to him, her eyes downcast. She was still as beautiful and desirable as she had ever been; more so, perhaps, with the wisdom of age that had come upon her. It was a wisdom that had mellowed her like fine wine, making her all that more alluring. She still stirred passion within him. She still made his heart race and his pulse pound. Erik, too, closed his eyes and reached within himself, deep into his heart and mind, trying to understand what it was he should do. Everything he had ever wanted was within his grasp and all he had to do was to take what was offered. He wrestled with the emotions he had carried within him for decades, across the seas and back again. He reached back to that night and gave himself permission to let that man go. Erik gave himself permission to grieve the past, to assimilate it and to bury it. The future lay within his reach and he longed to embrace it, to live it, to revel in the joy it offered.

His decision was made in a heartbeat.

"Christine," he said as he opened his eyes, placing a finger under her chin and gently lifting her head. "I need you to look at me."

Christine opened her eyes, they were wide and full of fear and longing.

"Do you love me?" Erik asked.

"Yes," Christine replied.

"Do you love your husband?" Erik paused for a moment. "I need you to answer me truthfully." He could see the answer in her eyes but needed her to say it.

"No," Christine replied.

Her answer earned a raised eyebrow from the man seated next to her.

The fear was gone from Christine's eyes and only the longing remained as she locked her gaze with the incredibly soft green eyes of her angel. "No, I do not love my husband for love does not even begin to cover what I feel for him," Christine said, the joy on her face growing soft. "I love you. I will always love you. Raoul was correct; there is a part of my heart and soul that he can never have for they belong to you." She touched a finger to her lips and placed it on Erik's lips. "To us." Christine sighed. "I love you but I am in love with Raoul. I have been in love with him from the moment I discovered he was willing to turn his back on everything he had even known to make me happy."

"What is it you want, Christine?"

She did not even need to think. "I want my children happy once again. I want my son and daughter well." She gave Erik a broad smile. "I want you well and happy." Her mood grew more wishful. "I want my marriage to work and I want my husband back."

Erik sighed for that was the answer he had been expecting and for which he had been hoping. "Christine, I love you and I will love you till the day I die but what we shared would have consumed us in its flames. It would have destroyed us both. I could not have borne the hatred you would have felt for me if I had killed Raoul any more than I could have watched you die little by little as you spent a life in darkness, longing for something you could never have." He made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a laugh. "Now we are no longer those foolish children and, perhaps, it is time for us to both grow up." Erik raised both of her hands to his lips, kissing each one in turn. "Know that you will always hold my heart in these small hands. Know that it is a heart you placed within me." He reached in for a kiss and whispered into her ear. "Now I need you to grant me my freedom; Christine, let me go so that I may find my way in this world as a free man. And you must return to the man who loves you enough to set you free."

Christine snaked her arms around Erik's neck and drew him close. "I give you your freedom," she whispered back, "but know that wherever life takes you, my heart will always go with you."

"I count on that knowledge for your heart is, was and will always be my guiding star," Erik told her and gently removed himself from her embrace. He looked long at her face, cherishing the moment, burning it into his memory. "Be happy, my angel."

Christine sniffled and cupped his face in her hands, memorizing the feel of him. "And you, my angel."

Their kiss was soft and heartfelt, each knowing that it would be the last such kiss they would ever share.


	44. Chapter Forty Four

Chapter Summary: Erik is introduced to the rest of Christine's children and Andrew's sister. He finally sees Annalise and lets her know what she has done to him.

_A/N: I have finally reached the point where all this has been leading. All of this angst and tears and romance and adventure and danger has been leading up to the two sentences Erik says to Annalise. I had these sentences in mind before I even wrote the first word of the first chapter. I told this to my brother and he rolled his eyes and said I was hopeless. I beg to disagree - I am hopeful!_

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

"I do not know about this," Erik said as he stopped on the grand staircase.

Christine turned around to look at the man whose hand she held. "It will be all right," she assured him. She laughed at the frown on his face. "They are just people."

"They are his sons," Erik told her.

"They have a mother," Christine reminded him and studied Erik's face - the uncertainty on it - for a moment. "They will not cause any harm."

"I am not so sure," Erik mumbled.

Christine laughed delightedly. "Now who needs to grow up!"

Erik found he had nothing to say so he allowed Christine to continue to lead him up the staircase to the second floor. She was insisting that he meet the rest of her children before allowing him to see Annalise. Erik was not sure of this. He was not sure of this at all. He was not sure he was ready to face Raoul's sons. He remembered the stories of them that Annalise had shared and for some inexplicable reason the thought of these young men frightened him. He wondered if they would regard him as a threat to their parents' marriage, to their father. He wondered what they thought of him for not sending word of their sister's whereabouts before going to save her. He wondered if they would turn from him in disgust. He wondered why it mattered. Erik wondered why any of it mattered. Erik wondered why he cared and he smiled inwardly at his own answer; he cared because they were Christine's children. Their opinion of him mattered because their mother's opinion of him mattered. Her opinion of him would always matter.

"Grammer!" a little voice called shaking Erik from his introspection. He felt Christine let his hand go and looked as she held out her arms, a small child with red hair flying into them. The laugh Erik heard come from Christine's lips was a revelation - he had never heard her laugh like that before.

Christine bent down and lifted her grandson into her arms. "Did you escape from your Maman again?" she asked but Bertrand was not looking at her. Christine kissed her grandson's cheek and turned to the man standing next to her.

"Funny," Bertrand said and pointed a chubby finger at Erik's face.

"This is my grandson, Bertrand," Christine said as she covered the little pointing hand with one of her own. She looked at the child in her arms. "Bertrand, I want you to say hello to Monsieur ..." A frown crossed Christine's delicate features, her cheeks turning a soft pink. "I do not ..."

"Monsieur Lachaise," Erik told the child using the surname he had chosen for himself, smiling at his grandmother and not knowing what else to do. Children were utterly foreign to him.

A small woman with flaming hair came racing around a corner of the long hall, a look of relief passing her face as she spied the child in Christine's arms.

"I am so sorry," Therese said as she approached. "We were playing 'kisses' with Chloe and I turned my back for one moment and he was gone." She frowned at her child. "What am I going to do with you?"

Bertrand had more important things to do than listen to his mother. "Funny," he said again and pointed at Erik's face.

"Yes," Erik had to agree. "I suppose I am."

Therese finally noticed the man standing next to her mother-in-law. "Oh," was all she said.

Christine smiled benignly at her grandson's mother. "Therese, this is my friend, Erik." She turned the smile on Erik and she saw some of his apprehension fade beneath its brightness. "Erik, this is Therese, she is married to my son Jean-Paul."

"Monsieur," Therese said as she held out her hand, a hesitant smile on her face.

Erik took her hand and held it gently for a moment. "Madame," he said softly.

"Thank you," Therese told him, taking her other hand and covering his. "Thank you for bringing Annalise back to us."

Another piece of his wall of apprehension fell away. "You are welcome," Erik replied.

Therese took her hands back and held them out to her child. "Come to Maman."

Bertrand shook his head. "No," he insisted and pointed at Erik. "Funny him."

Erik opened and closed his mouth, his eyes flashing to Christine. He felt a bit discomfited as he watched her trying to suppress her laughter.

Therese noted the man's discomfort and put her hands on her son's arms. "Come to Maman," she repeated.

Bertrand pulled away and let out an ear-splitting screech. "Funny him!" the two year old insisted.

Christine glanced at her daughter-in-law and smiled before turning back to look at Erik. She held out the child in her arms and Bertrand promptly grabbed onto Erik's neck. Erik found he could do nothing but wrap his arms around the chubby bundle. He actually felt a pang of embarrassment as Christine took one of his hands and placed it beneath Bertrand's padded bottom.

"There," Christine said, "just keep one hand under his bottom and one hand around his back." She twinkled at Erik. "It is not that hard."

Erik was finding it rather hard and he was feeling further put out by the fact that Christine actually twinkled at him. She had the audacity to twinkle at him and find amusement in his discomfort. It was the moment he knew that the Christine of so many years ago was truly gone. That Christine would have been too frightened and unsure to laugh at him. No, Erik realized, she was not laughing at him - she was laughing with him. She was laughing at the absurdity of their current situation; she was laughing at the sheer joy of life. Erik found it infectious and managed a smile back at her. His smile drew the attention of the child in his arms.

Bertrand placed his small hands on either side of Erik's face. "Happy funny him," he announced and burst into giggles.

"Very funny," Erik nodded and smiled at Christine as she took his arm, "and very happy." He turned his attention back to the child in his arms and wondered. He wondered at the incredibly soft touch of his hands, the utter lack of fear, the complete innocence. Erik just wondered.

"Jean-Paul is in the nursery," Therese said to Christine. "Richard and Leonie are there, as well." She turned to smile at Erik. "There is nothing like the laughter of children to cheer weary hearts."

"Then you must show me for I do not know of the world of children," Erik told her.

"I think you are doing quite well," Christine said as she took her free hand and patted her grandson's chubby cheek.

Erik walked in step with Christine as they followed Therese down the hall, past closed doors that allowed no sound to pass. Erik wondered which one belonged to Annalise; he did not wish to know which one belonged to Christine and her husband. There were some things that would always be too painful to think upon. He was drawn out of his silent contemplation by the sound of Christine's voice.

"Are you ready?" she was asking.

He had no answer and watched as Therese opened the door. Erik glanced in and saw another young woman with light brown hair sitting on a chair, a small baby being bounced on her knee. A young man knelt in front of them, his hands reaching in to tickle the child, making it laugh. Erik raised his eyes and saw another young man leaning against a wall, watching the couple, his arms crossed over his chest, a small smile on his face. He found he had no need to guess whose sons they were - they looked far too much like their father. At the sound of the door opening, the young man leaning against the wall raised his head.

"I see that you have found Bertrand," he started and stopped as he looked at the doorway.

"Papa!" Bertrand called and Erik set him down. The child ran over and wrapped his arms about his father's knees. Bertrand raised his face to his father, a huge smile on his lips and in his eyes. "Funny him!"

Christine shook her head. "He is an insistent little man," she said with a smile. She waited until Richard got up from his knees before leading Erik into the nursery. She watched somewhat nervously as Jean-Paul approached. Christine knew that there were times when he could be as stubborn as his father could be and prayed that this would not be one of those times. She could sense Erik stiffen and took his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. Christine held her breath as Jean-Paul extended his own hand.

"I am Jean-Paul," he began, "and you must be Erik. I am very pleased to meet the man who saved my sister."

Christine heaved a silent sigh of relief as Erik took the offered hand.

"I am very pleased to meet you," Erik replied. "Your sister has spoken warmly of you." He did not betray his surprise when some of the apprehension and conceit disappeared from Jean-Paul's eyes at his words. Erik thought it odd that this young man found it necessary to hide behind an emotional wall. It was amusing that someone who appeared so perfect would have such a need and Erik could only guess at the reasons why. He reached back to the night he had found Annalise and the words she had spoken about the family who no longer wanted her. That memory gave Erik an insight into this young man's emotional wall and he felt another piece of his own fall away.

"Did she really?" Jean-Paul wondered.

Erik knew his musings were correct. "Quite fondly," he said with a slight nod of his head.

Christine saw as a weight was lifted from her eldest son's shoulders and hoped her angel could feel the warmth of her gratitude for his kind words in the warm clasp of her hand. She knew he could when Erik turned his head slightly and gave her the briefest of smiles before returning his attention to the other young man who stood in front of him.

"My brother, Richard," Jean-Paul said.

Richard smirked at his brother and extended his hand to Erik. "I am the oft forgotten middle brother and am incapable of introducing myself," Richard said and grinned sheepishly at the look from his mother before growing more earnest. "Thank you seems so inadequate for what you did for us - for my sister - but I do not know what else to say."

"It is not inadequate at all," Erik told him as he shook Richard's hand.

Richard turned to the woman who had risen from the chair and was now standing next to him, a little baby in her arms. "My wife, Leonie, and our daughter, Chloe."

"Madame," Erik said as he bowed over Leonie's outstretched hand. He smiled Chloe. "She is very lovely." He was rewarded with a gentle smile from Leonie as she blushed and lowered her eyes.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Christine pulled gently on his hand. "And it is time for you to become better acquainted with small babies."

"Christine," Erik started with a shake of his head but gave in and followed Christine as she led him to the chair where Leonie had been sitting.

"Leonie," Christine said as she held out her hands. Leonie placed Chloe into her grandmother's arms and Christine turned back to Erik. "Hold out your arms," she told him.

"Christine," Erik tried.

"Hold out your arms, please."

Erik sighed deeply and opened his arms. He watched nervously as Christine placed the small thing on his lap and kept her hands about the baby. "What am I supposed to do with her?"

"Cradle her head with your left arm," Christine said as she reached for Erik's arm and guided Chloe to it. "Now take your other arm and move it along her side." Christine moved his other arm so that Erik cradled Chloe in his arms and she stood, looking down at them.

Erik was concentrating on the huge blue eyes that looked up at him and did not see the tear that Christine brushed from her own eye. His brows knit in confusion as the baby in his arms kicked her legs, stuck her tongue out and blew bubbles. "Is that what you do?" he asked Chloe and was rewarded with a gentle cooing sound. Erik was amazed at how soft Chloe was and how light and warm she felt against his chest. She smelled of innocence and Erik felt like he held a piece of heaven in his arms. A tiny fist reached out and grabbed at his hand that rested on the child's chest. Chloe took the finger that she had claimed and aimed it for her mouth causing Erik to send Christine a somewhat panicked look.

"No, no, no," Christine said as she gently pried Chloe's tiny fist from around Erik's finger. She reached in and lifted her granddaughter from Erik's arms and handed Chloe back to her mother before turning her attention back to Erik. "Come," she said as she extended her hands. "I believe there is still someone else you wish to see."

Erik stood and looked at the family surrounding him. He looked at the young couples with their small children held close. He looked at them and saw Christine's past and her promise to the future. He looked at them and knew that part of his angel would continue far into a future he could only dream about. Erik knew this and it gave him a sense of contentment. It was true, he thought, angels never die.

"Angel," Christine was whispering to him, a question in her voice.

He managed a smile for her and looked once more at her family. "Thank you," he said simply and followed Christine out of the room. He heard the amazed statements as the door closed behind them.

"He was certainly different than what I imagined," a male voice said.

"He is definitely charming," a female voice replied.

Christine heard it, too, and rested her head briefly against his shoulder. "You have charmed my children," she told him. "I always knew there was a good man inside of you."

"That is exactly what Andrew said," Erik replied.

"Come, then," Christine said as they walked down the hall. "I believe Andrew is with Annalise. His sister is also here." She smiled up at him. "And you must meet my other son." They stopped in front of one of the many closed doors. "Wait here for a moment," Christine said as she let go of his arm and quietly opened the door, slipping into the room.

It seemed like an eternity to the man who waited impatiently once again locked out from that which he desired. In fact, it was less than a minute before the door opened again and Christine came out. A young blonde woman and a young man with dark curly hair followed her, waiting as Christine gently closed the door. Erik knew that the young man had to be her son for he bore such a strong resemblance to his mother and in his eyes there was something of the skepticism and wariness of his father. He was definitely Christine's son. The young woman had quickly averted her eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Erik could only assume that she must be Andrew's sister. Yet she appeared to be so different from the brash, strong-willed Andrew that Erik had a moment of doubt as to who precisely she was. It was only a moment.

"Erik," Christine said as she placed a hand on the young woman's back and gently urged her forward. "This is Katherine Harrington, Andrew's sister."

Erik reached in for the hand that was hesitantly offered and bowed over it. "Mademoiselle," he told her, "you are as lovely as your brother said."

"Thank you, Monsieur." Katherine raised her head and gave Erik a shy smile. "And thank you for having a care for my brother. I would have missed him if ... if anything ..."

Erik patted her hand. "I would not have let anything happen to your brother. I have grown rather fond of him."

Katherine nodded and lowered her eyes again.

Erik turned to Christine who laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "My youngest son, Gustave."

"Sir," Gustave said as he held out his left hand. He raised his eyebrow at the look from Erik, daring the older man to say anything. "I regret not being able to offer my right hand but I am still recovering from a gunshot wound and my arm pains me."

Erik took his left hand, ignoring the somewhat shocked look that Christine gave her son. "Do not stand on manners in my presence," Erik told Gustave, taking an instant liking to the young man's boldness. "I am relieved to know that you are recovering."

"Thank you," Gustave said as he took his hand back, his look softening. "And thank you for finding my sister."

"You are welcome."

"Why do you not take Katherine into the sitting room and I will have Rachel fetch you as soon as we are finished," Christine asked her son softly. She waited as the two young people crossed the hall and disappeared into the sitting room before reaching out for Erik's hand. "I have someone who is eager to see you." She smiled at him as she turned to open the door behind her.

Erik followed Christine into a large room decorated in soft blues and ivory. A long dresser was centered upon one wall, a dressing table on the wall next to it; feminine objects - toiletries, ribbons, childhood dolls - scattered about them. Another wall held a closed door that was flanked by two wardrobes, a young woman sitting quietly in a corner next to one of the wardrobes. Next to the dressing table was a large bed in which another young woman rested propped up pillows. Sitting in a chair next to the bed was a young man, his hands wrapped around one of the young woman's. Both of their heads turned at the sound of the door opening, the young man raising an eyebrow at the two people who stood in the doorway; the young woman managing a very small, very tired smile.

"Thank God," Erik breathed so softly that only Christine heard.

"God?" she said into his ear before turning her attention to her daughter's maid. "Rachel, can you leave us?"

Rachel stood from her seat in the corner and quietly left the room.

"Erik," Annalise whispered - her voice still hoarse - as she held out her arms.

"Go to her," Christine told him.

Erik did not need any further urging and he quickly crossed the room to Annalise's bedside. He sat on the bed and took Annalise into his arms, holding her close. "Little angel," he whispered to her. "You do not know ... you have no idea ..." Words failed him and he just held to the girl who clung to him.

"Thank you," Annalise breathed in his ear. "Thank you for being my friend." She turned her head and kissed his deformed cheek. "Thank you for my life." Annalise rested her cheek against Erik's. "I love you."

Erik could feel his heart swelling at her words and felt as if it would burst. Her actions - the warmth of her touch, the feather like softness of her lips - were the crowning moment of a day Erik could not even have imagined. The man he had once longed to kill had willingly welcomed him into his home. His angel had willingly welcomed him into her arms. Their children had not turned from him or done him harm; they had even trusted him to hold their children in his arms. And now this. Annalise was alive, in his arms and she loved him. It was almost more than he could bear. Erik felt Annalise's tears against his cheek and knew she was also overwhelmed by the moment. He drew back to look at her.

The bruises on her face and neck were beginning to fade but she looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was paler than he remembered. But some of the old sparkle was back in Annalise's eyes and Erik knew this girl was stronger than even she imagined. He reached up to brush away the tears and felt the coolness of the skin beneath his fingers. He could also feel the trembling of the girl in his arms and he gently laid her back against her pillows.

"You must not tire yourself," he said.

"How did you know where to find me?" Annalise wondered.

Erik turned to look at Andrew and the two men nodded. "This young man burst through my front door." Erik watched as Annalise's hand reached for and found Andrew's. "He made a compelling argument and I sent someone to search for you. That is all you need to know."

Annalise's eyes grew frightened and she began to breathe rapidly. "Where is he?"

"I told you that he will never touch you again," Andrew said as he laid his other hand on Annalise's arm.

"Please," Annalise pleaded with Erik, "where is he?"

"You must not panic for he can never get near to you again," Erik told her, his hand going to her cheek. "He is in a place that will have a care for him for the rest of his life."

"Truly?"

"I would never lie to you," Erik replied. "Your father has promised to secure his care."

Annalise closed her eyes for a moment, her panicked breathing slowing. "Thank you," she whispered before opening her eyes again, her bottom lip trembling. "You tried to kill my father."

Erik had been waiting for that very statement. His eyes flickered to Christine who had taken the seat next to Andrew and their eyes locked for a moment, speaking volumes. Erik looked at Andrew briefly who wore a smug little smile and winked at him. Erik thought - yet again - how irritating Andrew could be and just how very much the young man reminded him of himself when he was much younger. He was also grateful for that irritating smugness for it was the perfect thing to see Annalise through her recovery; Andrew would never let his little angel succumb to the darkness and despair that he had known. Erik turned his attention back to Annalise.

"Annalise," he sighed, lowering his eyes, "that was a great many years ago." He raised his eyes. "Do you not remember the letter I sent to you when I told you that the woman I loved had returned my heart to me?" He waited until she nodded. "That was your mother as I am sure you know. It pains me to say that there was a moment when I did want to kill your father. I am sorry to have to say that for I see that it grieves you and I would not willingly bring more sorrow into your life." Erik sighed. "When your mother returned my heart to me, I began to change and at that moment I could no longer kill your father or anyone. Or I thought not till the moment when Andrew had safely spirited you from that place and I was left alone with the man who had," Erik watched his words, "nearly killed you."

"What happened?" Annalise sniffled.

Erik laid a hand upon Andrew's and Andrew removed his hand so that Erik could hold both of Annalise's in his own. "You happened, dear child."

"Me?"

"You," Erik nodded. "From that first day we met in the woods all those weeks ago you began to cast a spell upon me. You were open and loving and did not turn from me or fear me. You treated a stranger as a friend. I pondered upon what it was that you had done to me and could not find an answer. I did not know what it was until I was face-to-face with that man and all I wanted to do was to kill him in as painful a manner as possible. I wanted to make him pay for all that he had done to you. I reached in to strike him and found I could not even do that."

Annalise's brow knitted in confusion. "Why?"

Erik turned to smile at Christine and saw that she had placed a hand on Andrew's arm. He looked at Annalise. "I told your mother that when she gave me back my heart, she began to fix the broken boy that I was." He lifted a hand to rest it against Annalise's cheek. "You finished putting the man back together."

"How?"

"Your mother gave me back my heart," Erik said softly. "You gave me back my soul."

Annalise took her arms, and wrapped them about Erik, resting her head against his, their tears mingling.

Now it was Erik's turn to say the words he had been hearing all day. "Thank you, Annalise," he whispered only to her. "Thank you, my beloved little angel." He held her for a silent moment. "Do not let Andrew slip away. Promise me you shall hold to him and let him love and care for you."

"I promise," Annalise whispered back.

They did not see the tears that slipped from Christine or the hands that held so tightly to Andrew's..

"I knew there was a good man inside of him," Andrew whispered to Christine.

"I have always known it," Christine whispered back.

Erik had not wished to tire Annalise out so he only spent a few more moments with her, knowing it was time to leave when Annalise could no longer hold her eyes open. Erik had taken Andrew's hand and promised to stay in the Paris apartment until he felt it was time to return to the country. Andrew had also made him promise not to slip away without sharing where he was going. Erik assured the young man he would always let Andrew know where he was so that Annalise would not fret over him.

Now Erik and Christine stood in the front doorway of her home, hands clasped, eyes studying the feelings of the soul.

"What happens now?" Christine wondered.

"I shall do as I promised and wait in Paris for the time being." Erik shrugged. "Then I shall return to the country and decide what to do next." He gave Christine a smile. "There is a whole world out there just waiting to be explored. I think that I should like to see it - as a whole and complete man.

Christine nodded, her chin trembling. "I would like for you but what happens to us?"

"We shall be each other's dearest memories for that is something no one can ever take from us," Erik told her. "Let it be enough." He studied her. "Please, Christine, let it be enough."

The smile she gave him spoke volumes. "It is enough. It will always be enough." Christine lowered her eyes.

"Angel," Erik breathed as he drew her into a final embrace.

"Angel," Christine whispered back. "Godspeed, my love."

Erik's breath caught in his throat. "And to you and those you hold dear." He squeezed her gently and placed a kiss on her cheek. "I shall always love you." He let her go.

Christine laid a hand against his marred cheek. "I shall always love you," she replied with the smallest of smiles. She felt the soft touch of Erik's lips as he turned his face to kiss her palm before turning on his heel and walking out the front door, the sound of it closing echoing around the still foyer.


	45. Chapter Forty Five

_Chapter Summary:_ Raoul and Christine, Andrew and Annalise - a reconciliation and a future secured

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

He had ridden most of the day, memories from Hell hard on his heels. When he had realized he could no longer outrun them, he had stopped to let the memories catch him. They had churned in his stomach and gutted his soul. They had brought forth the pain and despair he had spent years burying deep within. The memories from Hell had caught him and left him the weak, silly boy everyone had thought him. Then he became angry with himself for letting his emotions overwhelm his reason and common sense. The anger was worse than the memories for it had been something he had lived with all his life, never allowing any to see it. He had spent a lifetime proving to the world that he was better than they thought him. He had spent years proving it to the one person he had loved more than his very life. He had spent years proving it to himself. His anger had led him to walk his horse back to its stable, the walk taking hours and clearing his head of grim thoughts. His heart and soul had still despaired, though, as he had walked through the front doors of his home and found it dark and still.

Raoul shook his head as he climbed the grand staircase. He had been the fool the world thought him. He had let his wife slip through his fingers. He had done the one thing that had haunted him all his life; he had given Christine the freedom to walk away from him. She had taken it and walked right into that man's arms. He had known the connection between his wife and The Phantom would be too powerful for them to overcome. Now the worst had happened and Raoul suddenly felt a sad peace descend upon him. He had done it and it was over and the memories from Hell, the fears, the uncertainty, were gone leaving in their wake a calm loneliness. He had had nearly twenty-five years with Christine. They were good years with good memories and that was something that no one could take from him.

Raoul gave a great sigh and composed himself as he stopped at the door to his daughter's room. He placed his hand on the knob, turning it quietly so the sound would not disturb Annalise. He would not stay, he promised himself, he just wanted to look in to ensure that Annalise was resting peacefully before retiring for the night. Raoul knew he would not sleep but needed the time to himself before speaking to his children in the morning. Save one child; he would do nothing to upset his daughter and hinder her recovery. There would be time enough to tell Annalise about her mother when she was stronger. Raoul gently pushed the bedroom door open and looked into the room.

"Papa," a hoarse voice whispered as Raoul looked in.

Raoul managed a smile as he walked into the room, closing the door behind him. The gas lamp on the wall by Annalise's bed was lit but turned down so that it cast a soft glow only near the bed. The rest of the room was in shadow and Raoul noticed a dark shape sitting in the chair by the wardrobe. He thought he should do something nice for Rachel as she was being very considerate of Annalise and going far beyond what any lady's maid would be expected to do. Raoul went to one of the seats still near his daughter's bed, sat down and took Annalise's outstretched hand, raising it to his lips. "What are you still doing awake?" Raoul wondered. "You need your rest."

"I was waiting for you," Annalise whispered back.

"Why?"

"You sent for him," she stated.

Raoul nodded. "I did. I told you that I would for I knew you would want to see him." Raoul watched as his daughter's brow furrowed in confusion. "What is wrong?"

"That was real?" Annalise asked softly.

"Yes," Raoul said and watched as the tears began to fall down his daughter's cheeks.

Annalise cried silently for a long moment before saying anything. "Sometimes I do not know what is real and what is not," she began softly. "I do not know if I have said things that will hurt." Annalise looked at her father. "Oh, God. I have, have I not?" She closed her eyes, continuing to talk through her tears. "He said so many things to me and his words hurt so much. I believed him when he said Gustave was dead and Andrew was dead. I believed him when he said you did not want me anymore because I was damaged in the eyes of society." She inhaled a sob before opening her eyes. "I am no better than he."

"Yes, you are!" Raoul insisted, his tone of voice stern and unyielding. He relented when he noticed how startled his daughter was. "I am sorry, Annalise, for I do not mean to upset you further but you are nothing like him."

"But I am ..."

Raoul shook his head and drew his chair closer to the bed, never letting go of his daughter's hand. "No, you are not." He reached in and took her other hand. "You must listen to what I am going to tell you." Raoul shook his head and exhaled. "What he said to you, what you believe of his words are things that are not real. What is real is that you were so greatly missed. Jean-Paul and Richard joined the gendarmes in their search for you for they wanted to bring you home to us." Raoul smiled softly at the girl who was studying his face with such intensity. "Gustave would become greatly irritated if we did not mention your name at least ten times a day. And I would hear your mother at night when she thought I was sleeping praying softly for your safe return." Raoul took back one of his hands and reached into his pocket pulling out the blue ribbon he had taken from the book all those days ago. He placed it in his daughter's hand. "I found this the day after you were taken from us. I have kept it close this entire time in the, perhaps foolish, belief that you would be able to feel me holding you." Very carefully, Raoul reached in to touch his daughter's cheek. "These are the things that are real: this family and our love for you. These are things you must believe and hold to and remember."

Annalise tightened her grip on her father's hand. "I remember his hands on my throat. I remember not being able to breathe ..."

Raoul took his hand from his daughter's cheek to stroke her arm, cutting off her words before Annalise could panic. "I, too, remember," he said gently. "I cannot tell you that you will ever forget that feeling. I can tell you that the memory of it and the fear it carries will fade with time."

"Promise me," Annalise pleaded with her father. "Please promise me!"

"It is a promise I can keep," Raoul assured her. "It will fade with time. Now you must promise me that you will remember how much this family loves you and wants you." He leaned over to kiss her forehead. "And how we are once again complete now that you are home."

Annalise nodded. "I shall try." She bit her bottom lip. "When he took me, he made me smell something that put me to sleep. When I awoke, I could feel arms about me and I thought it was you coming to comfort my bad dream as you would do when I was a child." Annalise lowered her eyes. "Will you stay with me tonight and keep away the bad dreams?"

Raoul touched his daughter's chin and smiled at her as Annalise raised her head. He reached to wipe away her tears. "I shall be in this chair the entire night until you wake again. You need not fear the bad dreams tonight." Raoul kissed his daughter again. "Now, you must sleep."

Annalise smiled happily. "I can now," she said as she closed her eyes and turned her head on the pillow.

Raoul watched his daughter as her breathing evened out and grew deeper. He sighed and gently brushed the hair from her face. "My sweet little girl," he whispered as he settled into his chair for the evening, "I love you."

"And do you love me, as well?" a voice asked from the darkness.

Startled, Raoul looked up from his daughter's bed to see Christine emerge from the shadows.

"No, I am not Rachel," Christine said as she continued to walk towards her husband. "I knew you would come to see Annalise when you returned." She stopped by the end of her daughter's bed. "I nearly despaired of your returning." Her voice was soft so as not to disturb her sleeping daughter. Christine moved to the seat next to her husband and looked down at his perplexed expression. "You have not answered my question," she reminded him as she sat. "Do you love me?"

"I ..." Raoul began and stopped.

"I am waiting," Christine said. She spoke to him as if he were one of their children.

"Why are you still here?" Raoul wondered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Christine sighed in disgust. "Why is it the men in my life have always underestimated me?"

Raoul shook his head and turned it for he could not look his wife in the eye. "It is not you; it is me," he replied. "I have always loved you. I just do not understand how you could love me."

"Excuse me?"

"Annalise said you gave up passion when you married me," Raoul began, still not looking at Christine. "I know she was not aware of what she said but it is a thought I have always carried with me. The passion that drove him, that drives you, it is something I can admire and appreciate but it is something I cannot share." He rubbed his forehead. "I present to the world the face they wish to see - rich, titled - but I am not shallow and I am not stupid even if there are times when I do not feel very strong. I also seem unable to keep my promises to you." Raoul's attention turned to Annalise as she moaned softly and rolled over. He continued to talk to Christine, as their daughter once again grew quiet. "I could not protect you that night and I could not protect Annalise. I promised you I would keep the shadows away from her and I failed and it almost cost our daughter her life. How could you possibly love someone like that?"

"Is that what you think of yourself?" Christine's tone held a tinge of anger and Raoul turned to look at her. "Is it?" There was no answer. "How could you think so little of yourself? How could you think so little of me to think I would love the person you describe?" There was no answer and Christine placed her hand under Raoul's chin. "You told Annalise that she needed to listen to you and now you need to listen to me." She sighed. "If you had not come back into my life, there is a good chance I would still be with Erik. We would have pushed each other and our talents further and further until we both would have fallen from the heights we might have reached. That fall would have destroyed us both, leaving us bitter and broken in the aftermath." Christine's voice and expression softened. "But you did come back to me and you showed me a different world. You showed me a world full of light and laughter where the only thing expected of me was that I would be myself. You asked nothing more of me and because of that I was able to give you everything that I was." She gently pinched her husband's chin. "And if there had been no passion between us, there would have been no children for us to love. I could never have been so vulnerable and intimate with someone who did not make my knees shake or my breath catch in my throat. I trusted you and loved you then and I trust you and love you now."

There was no answer.

"Raoul," Christine continued with a shake of her head. "Sometimes it takes more strength to admit to a weakness and to let the ones you love make mistakes then to never admit to being weak or to making mistakes. You are strong in a quiet, assured way that has brought me more security and comfort over these past years than you will ever know. I have always looked to you for that - to be my strength when I could not find my own. I would never have been able to move past what happened at the opera if you had not. I would never have been able to survive these last two weeks if you had not been strong and calm and here for me - for this whole family."

"I do not feel very strong," Raoul admitted as he glanced as his daughter. He turned back to look at his wife. "I feel like I have failed you both."

"You did not fail either of us," Christine said, taking her hand from his chin and gathering his hands into her own. "You saved me the night you proposed. You saved me from a life of fear and darkness. You freed my heart and my soul and gave me a great gift." She smiled at his quizzical look, loving the little furrow between his brows. "The freedom you gave me allowed me to save you that night under the opera house. I would never have had the courage to do such a thing before you came back to me."

"But I could not save Annalise." Raoul closed his eyes and shook his head. "The moment when my daughter needed me the most, is the moment when I failed her."

"You were not meant to save her."

"What?" Raoul was a bit shocked.

"Everything in this life has a purpose," Christine told him. "You were meant to save me and I was meant to save you. You and I had our hearts and souls and we were complete." She shook her head. "Who did that leave for Erik to save? He said that I gave him back his heart that night but that meant he was still incomplete. He still needed to be redeemed and that was not something you or I could do." Christine gave her husband a gentle smile. "It was something that our daughter was meant to do. Annalise reached out to him when she did not know our story and accepted him without fear. She showed him the possibility of a life free from guilt and shame and pain. When Annalise needed a savior, it was Erik's responsibility to be that for her so that he could redeem his soul and be complete."

"I had not thought of it in such a way," Raoul had to admit.

Christine nodded. "I know." There was a long silence between them. "Raoul, you are Annalise's father and there is nothing in the world that could ever sever the bond you both share. She has always turned to you for advice and comfort. It was you that she just asked to stay and keep her nightmares away. It was you whom she thought of when that man had her. You daughter loves and adores you as much as you do her. Never forget that."

Raoul managed a hint of a smile for the first time since Christine had emerged from the shadows. "I shall try," he replied using Annalise's words, knowing Christine would understand.

Christine laughed softly. "You are both impossible and I would have it no other way." She grew more serious. "You gave me the gift to choose where my heart lived and Erik also gave me a gift." Christine thought for a moment. "No, he gave us a gift."

"A gift?" Raoul asked.

"He reconciled us," Christine replied. "He saved our child and redeemed his life and in the process of doing so found his freedom," Christine sighed happily. "And with his freedom, he granted me mine. I love him. I will always love him." She reached up to touch her husband's face as his dropped his eyes. "I will love him as a friend and a memory that no one can take from me but I am in love with you. My heart has lived within yours for all these years and there it shall remain till the day I die." Christine's tone was soft and insistent. "I have a heart that is big enough to love our children and our grandchildren. It will also hold a place for Erik but the biggest place in my heart belongs to you and will always belong to you." Her forefinger traced the outline of her husband's mouth. "I made my choice all those years ago that your life meant more than my own. I have not changed my mind and I am staying where my heart lives."

"Christine," Raoul breathed as he reached in for a kiss.

Neither he nor Christine noticed the half-opened eyes of the girl on the bed or the happy smile that crossed her face as she gripped the ribbon held in her hand and finally allowed sleep to claim her.

The following two weeks saw a sense of peace and happiness descend upon Raoul, Christine and their family. It wrapped them in a warmth they had never known before and slowly life began to return to normal. Jean-Paul and Richard took their wives and children back to Paris for the first time in over month, resuming lives that had been put on hold. Gustave, his wound healed and strength returned, began to venture out into Society once again, more often than not returning home with kind words for his sister. Indeed, the whole house began to resemble an elegant gift shop as flowers, gifts and letters arrived to cheer Annalise as she recovered from her ordeal. Annalise's mind and body continued the gradual healing process. She began to eat more, softening the angles that weight loss had created. She still slept most of the day and night, the nightmares never far. Nor was the comfort far as Raoul and Christine kept a close eye on their daughter, beginning to restore Annalise's sense of security and faith in her family and their feelings for her. Katherine and Andrew had returned to their cousins' home on the far north side of Paris and came back nearly every day to spend hours with Annalise and Gustave, their bonds of friendship growing ever stronger. Yet, there was a distance that Annalise seemed to be placing between herself and Andrew; it was something her mother determined to stop before the distance grew any larger.

So it was that as Raoul came down the hall after a long day in Paris with business associates, he saw his wife standing outside Annalise's bedroom door. The door was partially opened and Christine stood with her hands clasped at her waist. A moment of fear passed through Raoul as he thought that, perhaps, Annalise had taken a turn for the worse but that passed quickly as Christine turned towards him and placed a finger to her lips. Raoul walked down the hall and stopped by his wife's side.

"What is going on?" he whispered. "Who is in there with Annalise?"

"Andrew," Christine whispered back.

"Alone?" Raoul was a bit amazed.

"Yes," Christine nodded, "but I am right here so that nothing will happen."

"Why?"

'I am securing my daughter's future happiness," Christine said simply.

"Well done," Raoul replied with a smile.

"Shh," Christine warned him. "I want to listen."

Both parents quietly moved closer to the opening in the door, listening to the voices that drifted out

"I love you," Andrew said. There was no reply from the girl who sat on the bed, her knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, head resting on them. Andrew crossed the room and sat on the bed next to Annalise, his heart breaking as she turned from him. "I know you have been through something I cannot even comprehend and I know you have been hurt. I know you still hurt but I will not let you slip away from me again."

"Go away," came the reply, Annalise's voice stronger but still raspy.

"Not until you hear me out," Andrew said. "I have loved you from the first day I saw you and I will love you until the day I die." No answer. "I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy but if you do not want that, I will understand." No answer. "I shall leave this place and go home but I shall never marry. I will devote my life to your happiness and you shall always find in me the truest friend you have on this earth. I shall spend my whole life watching you and protecting you and waiting for your voice." There was still no answer from Annalise. "Will you say something!" Andrew let his frustration get the better of him.

Annalise turned her head to look at Andrew and she was crying. "You would leave me?"

Andrew's shoulders sagged and his head dropped. "No," he replied. "I could never leave you." He snorted. "Although how I will make a living in France is beyond me at the moment." He raised his head. "All I know is that I love you and I cannot bear the thought of being without you. I never want to experience that again. Ever!"

"Don't go," Annalise reached out a tentative hand. "Please do not go." She sniffled as Andrew's hand clasped the one she had extended. "I do not know what I want or how long it will take me to overcome my fears." She sighed. "I am afraid to leave this room. I am afraid of the dark. I am afraid of loud noises. I am afraid to be alone." Annalise closed her eyes. "I am afraid of myself."

Andrew shook the hand he held. "Then let me help you! Let me help chase away those fears."

"You will stay?" She asked and Andrew nodded. "You will come and sit and talk with me and be quiet when I need?" Andrew nodded again. "I cannot promise you anything," Annalise said as her chin trembled. "I do not know what it is I want any longer. All I know is that I want to be well again." She tightened her clasp on Andrew's hand. "And I do not want you to leave."

"Then I shall stay as long as you need me." Andrew raised her hand to his lips. "And I shall believe in you and love you enough for both of us."

"Andrew," Annalise said, a cry in her voice, as she extended her arms. She felt the strength and warmth of his arms wrap her in a safe cocoon as Andrew drew her into his embrace. Annalise finally felt safe enough to let loose the dam of tears that had been building for days and she sobbed heavily into his shoulder.

Neither the man who held the girl nor the girl who sobbed in his arms noticed the two heads that quickly disappeared behind the open door.

Christine smiled at her husband. "Secured," she said.

"I love you," Raoul said as he kissed his wife.


	46. Chapter Forty Six

**Chapter Summary:** A wedding. And a wedding night.

_(A/N - I am invoking the rule my married characters live by - Rule #86 - "No explicit sex, please; we're British". There is still an epilouge and then this not-so-little story comes to a close. Thanks to everyone who has been reading and commenting - your comments help my writing and your kind words lift my spirits.)_

Raoul paced nervously at the bottom of the staircase. He tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves, straightening what did not need to be straightened. He pulled at the collar of his shirt; it felt like it was choking him. It had to be for he could not breathe and there was no other reason for such a feeling. He paced back and forth, pulling out his gold pocket watch to check the time. Raoul watched as the second hand ticked away moving the minute hand that moved the hour hand all of which were moving his life forward to a moment he had been dreading for eighteen years. He put his hands on the highly polished banister, sighed and closed his eyes, watching her life play on his eyelids.

The red and gold of autumn leaves danced in the sunlight like precious jewels but could not begin to compare to the precious jewel he held in his arms. She had her mother's eyes and he felt himself lost in their depths.

She was dancing around the stables, giggling with glee, as he presented her with a soft brown pony as her birthday gift the day she turned six.

She was eleven and at that awkward stage between childhood and adolescence. She stood at the barre behind her mother, mirroring the structured ballet movements, struggling to be graceful.

She was fifteen and the promise of the beauty that she would be was becoming more evident with each passing day. He could hear her brothers telling her what she should and should not do while she tried unsuccessfully to stifle her giggles.

She was seventeen and she and her joyous spirit had been ripped from their lives. And she had come back, broken and scarred, looking to him to help restore her spirit.

She had just turned eighteen and was holding to the banister of the grand staircase, too frightened to return to her bedroom and too frightened to go down the stairs. She had clung to his arm and her smile as the rest of the family found her at the breakfast table gladdened his heart.

She was eighteen and flinging her arms around the neck of the young man who knelt in the snow at her feet. She had come to him, asking for simplicity, worried that her parents would be disappointed for she did not share their vision of her future.

She was eighteen and the only disappointment he felt was the fact that he had to let her go. Yet he could let her go for she was going to a strong, capable man who would always place her first and who loved her as much as she loved him. He could not have let her go to a lesser man.

Raoul blew out a long breath, trying to calm his racing heart and thoughts.

"Surely that is not because of me," a dearly loved voice said.

Raoul raised his head and turned to look at the top of the stairs, his very life stopping as he saw his daughter.

Annalise stood on the second floor landing, smiling down at him, radiant and happy. She was a vision in her ivory gown, its high neck and long sleeves modest and appropriate for the ceremony that waited. Raoul smiled as he took note of the blue sash about her waist, the tiny blue crystals flashing in the lace at her neck and wrists and studding the ivory lace of her skirt. He knew that blue was Andrew's favorite color to see her in and thought it just like his daughter to do something so thoughtful for the man she was about to marry. Her dark curls were drawn up to the top of her head and cascaded down her back and over the floral wreath that nestled in them. A simple lace veil fluttered in the breeze from an open window as Annalise descended the stairs, reaching for the hands that Raoul extended.

"Say something," Annalise said as she took note of the tears in her father's eyes.

"My little girl is gone," Raoul had to admit. "She has been replaced by an incredibly brave young woman who stands at the threshold of her new life." He took back one of his hands to caress his daughter's cheek. "She is a young woman I am proud to call my daughter."

"Papa," Annalise replied as she drew her father close, kissing his cheek. "I shall always be your little girl," she whispered.

Raoul let out an uneven breath as he drew back, letting go of his daughter's hands. "I have one last gift for you before we must leave." He left Annalise at the bottom of the stairs to reach for something on a table tucked behind the curve of the staircase.

"What?" Annalise asked, her brow furrowed.

Raoul came back with a bouquet in his hands. It was small by the standards of what other Society girls were carrying that year - a dozen hot house ivory roses surrounded by daisies, Baby's Breath and blue Forget-me-not's. Blue and ivory ribbons draped down from the handle of the bouquet, ivory lace encompassing the round arrangement. But it was the single red rose in the midst of the bouquet that caught Annalise's eye. She fingered it lightly as Raoul handed her the flowers.

"I did that," he said gently and smiled at his daughter's puzzled look. "If it had not been for him, today might never have happened. He deserves to be honored and to share in your joy."

"Thank you," Annalise said, her eyes moist and glistening. "I love you."

"I love you," Raoul returned. "I think we must go, though, before we shed any more tears or are late." He smiled. "I should hate to keep Andrew waiting; I shudder to think what he might to do me."

Annalise laughed as she took her father's arm, allowing him to lead her through the front door. "He would not dare!" She followed her father, clinging to his arm, smiling as she saw Regine waiting by the side of the open chaise, Diana and Mercury waiting patiently almost as if they knew the day was something special. Annalise let go of her father's arm so that she could kiss Regine on the cheek. "Thank you," she told him.

Regine nodded a broad smile on his face. "You are welcome, Mademoiselle and may I say that you look very lovely."

"You may and thank you." Annalise walked to the front of the chaise and ran her hand down the foreheads of both horses. "And thank you," she whispered to them. She walked back to her father. "I am ready."

Raoul and Regine handed her into the flower bedecked chaise and followed her, Raoul sitting next to his daughter, taking her hands. Regine sat in front of them, taking the reins and gently tapping the backs of the horses, guiding the carriage towards the small village wherein one Monsieur Pfieffer guided his flock and waited to perform a wedding ceremony.

The marriage banns had been called at Notre Dame during January, February and March as was required by church law; Notre Dame being the home parish for Raoul and Christine's family. Yet Annalise had been hesitant to marry there, unsure of her returning confidence in front of all Paris society, unwilling to hear their whispered comments. She had fretted that her parents would not understand her wish for a small wedding with just family and close friends in attendance. Annalise had worried for naught. Christine had eagerly assisted her only daughter in the planning of a small wedding, the buying of a trousseau, the housing arrangements for guests coming from across the sea. Raoul had chased away the last of his daughter's doubts with an early wedding gift - he had gifted Andrew and Annalise with the deed to _Tout Ce Qui Est_, the family's small country estate. Andrew, who had grown up on a working farm, and Annalise, who was so intrigued by the art of wine-making, had a place to call their own and a start to building their lives together. Now those lives were about to begin in the small village that the couple would call home.

Regine stopped the horses in front of the white church that held a prominent place on the village green. Local villagers milled about, waiting to see a glimpse of people who would not normally spend the time to even stop in their small village. They waited to see a glimpse of the bride and clapped and threw petals as Raoul helped his daughter from the chaise. Annalise blushed and smiled at the villagers, her heart so full she thought it would burst from the sheer happiness she felt all around her. Annalise took her father's arm, smiled up at him and walked to the door of the church where Katherine waited patiently.

"You look so lovely," Katherine said and turned to place her hand on the door handle.

Annalise turned to her father. "Can you place my veil, please?"

Raoul reached behind his daughter's head and held the veil for a moment. "If you are unsure or do not wish to do this, just say the word and I shall have Regine take you home."

"I am a bit nervous but Maman says that is natural," Annalise said with a soft smile. "I am ready. I have been ready for the last six months."

Raoul kissed his daughter's cheek before drawing the veil over her head. "Then let us go and find your," he faltered for a moment, "husband."

"Always your little girl," Annalise whispered to him as they followed Katherine into the open church, Regine closing the doors softly behind them.

The small church was glowing from warm May sunlight that filtered in through stained glass windows. It gave jeweled sparkles to the white flowers that seemed to decorate every free space. It danced off the bright colors of the dresses and waistcoats of the guests. It seemed to give a halo to the blonde head of the man waiting at the altar, Annalise's brother standing next to him. Annalise and Andrew had decided to ask the two people they loved, who had shared their nightmare, to witness the moment when the nightmare was laid to rest; Gustave and Katherine had eagerly accepted. Now Annalise stood in the vestibule, listening as the organ music began. Once again she turned to her father.

"Ave Maria?" she asked. "It is one of my favorites but that is not the music that Maman and I chose."

"It is a gift," her father replied and patted her hand, his smile slightly mysterious. "I believe we must go."

Katherine opened the doors to the sanctuary and began the slow walk down the center aisle. Annalise looked around at the congregation, finding faces of new family and old friends on both sides. She saw her brothers and their wives and gave them a broad smile. Her smile softened as she saw her mother, the tears already tracing down Christine's cheeks. Annalise looked towards the organ that nestled in a niche near the main altar, the church being too small to accommodate a choir loft. Her eyes widened and her lips formed an "O" as she saw Erik at the organ.

"It is a gift," Raoul whispered again, "to honor him and allow him to share your joy." He began to lead his daughter down the aisle. He could feel the moment, though, when she truly moved away from him. The moment when her breath stopped, her eyes meeting the eyes of the man waiting for her by the altar, their smiles radiant and warm. Raoul stopped at the front pew, allowing Christine to embrace her daughter before walking the remaining few feet to the altar. He could remember little but the feel of his wife by his side after placing his daughter's hand into the hand of the man with whom she would spend the rest of her life.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed in a blur for Annalise and Andrew. They would remember little of the actual wedding ceremony except for the glowing eyes of the person in front of them. Annalise would remember the strength of Andrew's arm about her as they rode back to their new home to receive their guests and celebrate their happiness. Andrew would remember the softness of her hand in his as they stood greeting guest after guest. Annalise would remember the feel of her father's arms about her as they shared a dance courtesy of violinists from the new opera house in Paris. Andrew would remember the gracious and truly kind way his family received his new wife. Annalise would remember dancing in Erik's arms, feeling safe and warm in them and watching as her father broke in, taking her hands and giving her mother into Erik's. It was a moment that could not have happened without her, her father had said as they watched two angels dancing in the spring garden. Andrew would remember the envelope Erik had pressed into his hand and the lecture Erik gave him regarding Annalise's comfort that night, the threat not subtle or veiled. Annalise would remember the gentle words of her mother regarding her comfort that night. Andrew would remember the lectures from all the males who loved Annalise regarding her comfort that night.

Finally Andrew and Annalise were waving goodbye to everyone and climbing into a coach piled with luggage. They were going away for a month to a place that would be a surprise to Annalise but not to her new husband. Christine would spend the month in the country with Great-aunt Adele readying the home for its new owners while Raoul returned to Paris during the week and came to the country on the weekends. As for Erik, that would be something that Annalise would discover from the letter that had been placed into Andrew's hands. At the moment, though, she was just content to settle into her new husband's side, her head on his shoulder and watch as the beauty of the Loire Valley passed outside the coach's windows. Two hours later the coach turned down a lane and Annalise sat up as she heard the sound of running, churning water. Andrew smiled at her as the coach stopped and he got out, his hand extended to help her.

"The watermill!" Annalise exclaimed as she looked around. Her gaze returned to her husband. "How ...?"

"Your father told me how much you loved to visit here when you were small," Andrew said and placed his hand against her cheek. "I used some of my trust fund to purchase it for you," he corrected himself, "for us and I had a wonderful architect working here since January to ready it for this moment." He swept his giggling wife into his arms and walked her through the open door. Andrew let Annalise down and drew her into his arms. "Welcome to your honeymoon castle, Madame Cameron."

Annalise sighed. "Madame Cameron," she smiled and kissed her husband. "How lovely that sounds."

"Madame Cameron," Annalise whispered to the reflection in the mirror later that night, "is very nervous." She looked down at her shaking hands and clasped them tightly. She jumped at the sound of the knock on the bedroom door. She stood on shaky legs and called out. "Come." Annalise watched as the door opened and Andrew entered the room.

"Oh my," was all Andrew could say as he saw his bride standing before him, dark curls cascading about her shoulders, dressed in blue lace that gave tempting hints of what lay beneath.

"Andrew," Annalise said in a shaky voice as she extended her hands.

Andrew crossed to her side, drawing her close, feeling her tense up. He drew back, a puzzled look on his face. "What is wrong?" he wondered.

"I ...," Annalise began and stopped, shaking her head.

Andrew kept hold of her hands and led her to the padded bench at the end of the bed. "You can tell me anything," he said softly as they sat together. There was no answer. Andrew reached into the pocket of his robe and placed a sealed envelope into his wife's hands. "Read this," he told her.

_"My Dearest Little Angel,"_ the letter began. _"I hope the watermill finds favor with you for I have worked very diligently in the hopes of making it the embodiment of your dreams. I wished you to begin your new life on a cloud of hope for that is what I shall do. Now that I know you are in the arms of one who will love and keep you safe, I can begin my own new life. By the time you read this, I shall have left to see the world, Tomas by my side. Together we shall explore and experience things the like of which each of us has only dreamt. Your new husband has promised to keep the monastery ready for us for I shall return someday with tales to enchant the children I know will be playing at your feet. Godspeed in your new life, dearest Annalise, may you know no further sorrow. My soul and my heart shall always think of you. Love, Erik."_

"He's gone," Annalise said in a sorrowful tone as she ran fingers over the elegant script.

"He will be back. He promised," Andrew told her as he laid a hand over hers. He felt her jump and pull away from him. Andrew took his hands back. "Annalise, look at me." He waited as she raised frightened eyes to his face; Andrew could feel his heart sink. "We do not need to do anything you do not wish to do," he said gently. He watched as Annalise's bottom lip trembled and he sighed. "I will sleep in the other room until you are comfortable having me close by."

"No," Annalise replied in a fierce tone, her hand reaching out to encircle Andrew's wrist. "Please do not go."

"I will not go," Andrew replied and watched as Annalise lowered her head and took back her hand. "What is it?" he wondered

Annalise looked at him from beneath her lashes. "I need to tell you something and you must promise me you will listen to what I have to say." She watched as he nodded and Annalise lowered her eyes so that she was not looking at her new husband. "When Michaud," she paused and started again. "When he had me," Annalise shook her head. "Oh God, I have never said these things to anyone else." She was grateful that Andrew sat still and quiet next to her. "When he had me, he tried to force me to ... he put his hands on my chest and his knee between my thighs and I did not know what to do. I would try to fight back but then he became angry and would tie my hands so I could not. He drugged me so I would sleep and when I awoke I would find him lying next to me, his hands on my chest, my hips, my legs..." She sniffled back tears. "I would try to kick him and that is when he began to bind my ankles, as well. I was left with no recourse and he could do what he wished." She bit her lip and looked at Andrew. "His actions hurt so much because I thought I was in love with him even if he knew I was in love with you." Annalise watched as her husband turned his head. "Oh God," she whispered. "He was right. He said you would not want another man's castoff. I tried to give him what he wanted so that the beatings would stop." She bit back a sob. "I have ruined everything."

There was a long silence before Andrew spoke. "Is that what you think?" he asked her. "Annalise, is it?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I knew you would not want me if I told you and I should have told you these things sooner. I should have told you before we spoke our vows before God. I was just so frightened."

"Do not want you?" Andrew laughed and Annalise raised a tear-streaked face to him. "I want you so much it hurts! There has not been a day that has passed since the first moment I saw you that I have not longed to have you in my arms. I will admit that, at first, it was because you were so pretty and vivacious." He reached in for her hands and was relieved when she did not pull away from him. "But that changed over time as I grew to know you. I began to fall in love with an intelligent spirited woman and my feelings for you have only deepened as I watched your strength and courage over these last months. You are an incredible woman and I cannot believe you love me."

"Truly?" Annalise asked and shook her head. "I am not a naive little girl any longer and I know I am not first woman you have been with." Annalise blushed and lowered her eyes. "I do not want to be a disappointment to you."

"My silly, beloved wife," Andrew's voice was tender as he ran a finger lightly down Annalise's nose. "I would so much rather you were the last than the first." He brushed away her tears, his hands lingering to hold her face. "What Michaud said to you, what he did, what you did, none of that matters. None of it has ever mattered. All that matters is you and the love I feel for you. You could never disappointment me." He laughed again, this time gently. "And to think I was worried about what you would think of me!"

Now it was Annalise's turn to laugh softly. "I think we are both very silly." She grew serious. "Andrew, I do love you and I do want you. I want to know what it is to be loved and desired for the person I am and not the conquest I could be. I want you to help me forget his words, his touch." She reached up hands to hold the ones that wrapped her face in such warmth. "I want you."

Andrew hesitated for a moment. "I should tell you that every male member of both our families gave me a lecture regarding your happiness this night. Even Erik lectured me; although I had heard his lecture before." He shook his head at the puzzled look in his wife's eyes. "I will tell you someday," he promised. "Are you sure?" He felt the head in his hands nod its assent. "Then we shall take this slowly. If you ever want to stop, just say the word and we shall stop."

"But what about you?" Annalise had listened to her mother and had heard just enough gossip to know that it could hurt Andrew if they were to stop.

"I do not matter," Andrew said as he took her hands and stood. "You are the only thing in this world that matters tonight." He gave a gentle tug on her hands. "Come," he told her and led Annalise to stand in the moonlight that poured in through the window.

"Why?" Annalise wondered. She could feel her knees shake as she looked at the fire that burned in her husband's eyes.

"I want to see you in the moonlight," Andrew told her, his hands reaching for the ribbon that held her dressing gown closed. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked and watched as Annalise shook her head. He gently untied the ribbons of her gown and heard the intake of breath as his hands reached up to slip the gown from his wife's shoulders, his hands running down her bare arms to reclaim her hands. He guided her hands to the sash that secured his own robe. "Your turn," Andrew said.

Annalise swallowed hard, her fingers shaking as she undid the sash, mirroring Andrew's actions, her hands going to his shoulders and slipping the robe from his body. "Oh," Annalise said as she laid a hand against his bare chest, feeling his heart pound.

Andrew clasped the hand that rested against his skin, setting it on fire. He reached in for a kiss that was soft at first but grew in intensity. His other hand reached for a shoulder of the lace chemise his wife wore. He felt her stiffen and he drew back. "Do you want to stop?" he wondered and held his breath.

"No," Annalise breathed, taking his hands and placing them on the shoulders of her chemise. "No," she repeated and locked her eyes with his, as she felt the lace began to fall from her shoulders. Annalise felt the chill of the night air as the chemise fell completely away from her body to pool in a blue puddle around her feet.

"Oh Lord," Andrew breathed as he looked at his wife standing in the gleam of the moon, her skin glowing silver from its light.

"Oh no," Annalise cried softly as she closed her eyes "He was right." She felt a hand on her face.

"Look at me," Andrew insisted and waited until Annalise opened her eyes to look at him, uncertainty warring with desire in their blue depths. "You are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined." He gently rested his other hand on the curve of her waist, his thumb caressing the skin of her abdomen. "You are perfect and beautiful and I love you and want you so badly I think I may die from the intensity of my need."

Annalise could feel her knees giving way. "Then love me, Andrew," she told him and felt as he scooped her into his arms, walking over to the bed and gently laying her down. She looked up at him with glowing eyes. "Just love me," she repeated in a whispery voice, her arms reaching out and drawing him close.

Later, as his need was released, Andrew collapsed against his bride's shoulder, her name on his lips. He buried his face in her hair, struggling to find his way back to earth. He could feel Annalise breathing heavily beneath him. He also felt something wet against his cheek that quickly returned him to his senses. Andrew lifted himself up on his elbows and looked down at Annalise's face, horrified to find tears running down her cheeks. "Oh God," he breathed. "What have I done?" He reached in to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "Annalise, I am so sorry. I should have stopped. I should have..." Andrew's words were stopped by the firm kiss planted on his lips, the hands that reached up to cup his face.

"_Je t'adore_," Annalise whispered as she kissed one of Andrew's eyes. "_Je t'adore_," she kissed the other eye and ran a finger down Andrew's nose. "My silly beloved husband." She kissed him again on the lips. "I love you," she whispered against them and Annalise drew back to look at Andrew. There was a familiar sparkle in her eyes, a sparkle that had long been absent. "He was wrong," Annalise said and bit back a cry. "He was wrong," she repeated. "I am beautiful and I am desired and I am loved."

"_Je t'aime_," Andrew whispered against his wife's lips as he kissed her and rested his cheek against hers before rolling to his back and bringing Annalise with him. He waited as Annalise settled her head against his beating heart, her legs entwining with his, before drawing the summer linens up around them. Andrew wrapped his arms about his wife, kissing the top of her head. "I will love you till the end of time," he said quietly.

Annalise sighed, feeling a happy lethargy begin to take control of her mind and body. "Then we will find the end of time together for that is how long I shall love you." She could no longer keep her eyes open. "My silly," Annalise yawned and rubbed her head against Andrew's chest, "beloved husband."

Andrew could feel the even breathing of the woman in his arms and knew that Annalise had fallen asleep. He stared at her, wondering what he had done so right in his life to have this miracle in his arms. He was not sure that he wanted the answer so he just tightened his grip on his wife and kissed her as she sighed happily in her sleep. He rested his head against hers. "I do love you so," Andrew's last whispered words and last thought before he succumbed to the sleep waiting for him.


	47. Epilouge

**Chapter Summary:** Annalise first met Erik in June of 1896. It is now twenty-two years later.

_Author's Notes: World War One began in 1914 and peace was declared November 11, 1918. The influenza pandemic began quietly in 1917 and returned in the late winter/early spring of 1918. The flu killed more people worldwide than the war had done. Now, on a more personal note, thank you so very much to everyone who has read, enjoyed and commented on this story. I appreciate you more than you will ever know.And to those who have suggested this should be published - well - I am moving the story to the 1920's, creating a new back story for the original love triangle and taking the plunge. So ... who knows? This story has been a wonderful journey, I cannot believe it is over and I am so glad you have shared it with me!_

EPILOUGE

_June 1918_

She walked slowly up the familiar hill in back of her home eyes fixed on the copse of trees that stood at the summit. She could have walked the pathway in her sleep and, in fact, had done so many times over the years. In the dreams, her feet had flown across the verdant grass, up the hill and she had gaily danced through the sun-dappled shadows beneath the trees. She had sung with the twittering birds and laughed with the water that flowed over smooth stones. She had sung into the wind, watching as her voice was carried through the skies. But that was in dreams and dreams are not reality. She sighed and paused halfway up the hill, turning to look back at the world that spread out beneath her feet.

Not much had changed in the landscape since that first June afternoon she had climbed this very same hill twenty-two years ago. Smoke rose off in the distance from the village that had grown over time and was no longer quite so small but still bore the charm that had first enchanted her. Her eyes turned towards the fields and she saw the baby animals that frolicked through the green grass, the horses grazing contentedly, the brown fields slowly being covered by the green of new growth. Her gaze wandered towards the vineyards and she sighed; they no longer looked quite as neglected as they had over the last three years. Another few months of long work days and, perhaps, this year's grape harvest would yield a vintage to be savored and treasured.

Treasured.

Her gaze drifted to the walled garden at the back of her home. There, sitting quietly, surrounded by family was the one thing she treasured most in the world. The one person who meant safety and joy and love - her husband - and her heart broke as, once again, she understood the pain he had felt when she had been returned to him. He had insisted on fighting for the country and people that had welcomed him with open arms and when he had returned to her, he had been broken in body and spirit. Just as he had held her during the darkness of her nightmares, now it was her turn to hold him, to reassure him, to comfort and to love him. Their relationship had come full circle and now with the rumors of peace floating on the air, she hoped they could rebuild what the war had shattered. She turned back and continued to climb the hill.

There had been so much joy in their lives. Each beat of her heart echoed the memory of a happier time.

Madeline, now twenty, with straight dark hair and large blue eyes. She was a quiet girl with strength of character that she had inherited from her father. She had studied music in Paris and had fallen in love with a young piano player. She and Thierry were to be married but - in typical Madeline fashion - she had insisted that the wedding not take place until peace had been declared and the war was over.

Ranulf, barely seventeen, was still young enough to be forbidden from going to war much to his mother's relief. He looked like his father with blonde hair and warm brown eyes. And with his gentle ways and calm self-assurance, he reminded her of her own father. She remembered how happy her parents had been when they had named Ranulf - her husband discovering that their new son's name was the Scandinavian version of her father's own name. It honored both her parents.

Noel, her little Christmas baby who was now thirteen with all the feisty independence of any adolescent who suddenly thought they understood the whole world. He had her dark curls and blue eyes and reminded her far too much of herself for her to ever be comfortable about his life. Noel did not know the meaning of fear and tended to do as he pleased the minute his parents' backs were turned. She thanked God he had Ranulf as an older brother to whom he could turn for advice and guidance.

Deirdre, who had just celebrated her eleventh birthday, was the little fairy floating through their lives. She had bright blonde curls and wide brown eyes and never seemed to have an awkward moment. She loved the animals and the flower gardens. She loved to sing and the potential of her voice threatened to outshine those of both her mother and grandmother. She had been the sunshine in her family's lives throughout the darkness that war had brought upon them.

She stopped at the top of the hill, her hand reaching up to the buttons at the base of her throat. She smiled with the memory and undid the buttons, moving the collar back. Her fingers lingered for a moment over the three long scars beneath her collarbone but she pushed that memory from her thoughts. Bitterness and revenge were emotions upon which she refused to linger - he had taken enough from her youth and his friend had nearly taken Noel from her life. Her last thought of them was a prayer that they both rested in peace. Her thin hands reached up to the back of her head - her engagement and wedding rings flashing in the sun - and loosed the hair pinned to it. Dark curls with subtle hints of silver tumbled down her back. She had refused to cut it for she knew how much her husband loved to snuggle into her long curls.

"No one is looking but God, right?" Annalise repeated words from a long ago summer afternoon as she looked up at the sky for an answer. "And You won't tell."

As she entered the well-worn path into the woods, Annalise wondered if even God was looking anymore. She sighed and swallowed down the lump in her throat. The war had brought such devastation upon so many. And what the Red Horseman of War had not taken, the Pale Horseman of Death, who brought the influenza, had claimed as his own.

Loss. So much loss.

Each of her footfalls crunching on the rotting leaves covering the pathway into the woods punctuated a loss that had devastated her life.

Crunch.

Bertrand, the laughing toddler who had so cheered the long days of her recovery, had grown into a young man with a great curiosity about the world and skies around him. He had spent all his free time studying the winged machines that flew through the heavens. He had found a freedom and a spiritual connection while guiding those machines through bright blue skies and fluffy white clouds. Bertrand, the first-born grandchild and heir to the family name and fortune lost forever when his plane had been shot down over Belgium.

Crunch.

Her niece, Suzanne, a lovely girl who was as outgoing as her mother had been reserved. The letter written in Katherine's fine script had sent the news that Suzanne had fallen victim to the mysterious influenza that seemed to take special joy in killing the young and healthy. Annalise had longed to hold Katherine in her arms and comfort as she had been comforted but the submarine war declared by the Germans precluded any overseas travel. And there had been another reason

Crunch.

Andrew, her silly beloved husband, had been wounded by an exploding shell. He had been left for dead on one of the many battlefields that covered the country he had grown to love. He had come back to himself when one of the poor people who roamed the battlefields, scrounging for whatever they could find, put their hands in the pockets of Andrew's pants. Andrew had been taken back to the ramshackle farmhouse and nursed for months as he had hovered between life and death. The memory of the day Annalise had answered the knock on her front door still chilled her to the bone. She had found Andrew slumped on the stairs, his clothing barely hanging on to his bone-thin body. The months that followed were long and trying as Annalise and her children struggled to bring Andrew's spirit back from the war and into the warmth of their embrace.

Crunch.

Richard, the sweet, even-tempered brother who had always been so gentle with her had also been a victim of the influenza that had ravaged every nation in the world. He had complained of being sick one morning as he had left for work. Later that night he had taken to his bed, his fever climbing and his lungs failing. Four days later he had died leaving behind a grieving wife and three children. His death had also taken its toll on his parents and siblings, shaking their faith in God and devastating what remained of lives already torn apart by the horrors of war.

Crunch.

Annalise's feet had carried her to the place for which she had been longing. Her eyes began to tear over as she entered the clearing in the center of the woods. She walked over and nearly collapsed onto the tree trunk that had been there since the first afternoon she had stumbled upon this spot. This quiet, secret spot that had been hidden for so long. This spot that had become her peaceful oasis in the midst of the turmoil that had moved in and out of her life. Annalise opened her closed hands and spread her fingers in front of her eyes. Her hands were shaking from feelings long held close and here, where no one could see or hear her, Annalise felt she could let her emotions go. She placed her hands over her face and sobbed into them, crying like she had not cried in almost a year.

"Are things no longer well with your soul?" a voice asked.

At the sound of a voice that she had thought never to hear again, Annalise let out a small shriek and jumped to her feet. She stood on shaking legs, the color fading from her cheeks, her lips moving but no sound coming forth from them. She stood staring at the figure in front of her for a long moment, shock finally giving way to a longing that would not be denied. "Erik," she breathed, her arms extending.

"My little angel," Erik replied as he reached for her, his eyes mirroring the sorrow and loss of the girl's.

They stood for a long time in each other's arms; Annalise crying tears that were ripped from the depths of her heart, Erik holding her tightly, his own tears falling silently. Finally, they broke apart, Erik taking Annalise's hand as they sat on the fallen tree trunk. A stillness settled upon them as they struggled to overcome the years of separation and reach back to a more innocent time, a time before fear and war and death. Erik reached into a pocket and placed something into Annalise's hand. She looked down and smiled, taking the handkerchief in her hands and twisting in through her fingers. Annalise finally raised her head to look at Erik, a trembling smile on her lips.

"When?" she began, shaking her head. "How ... why did you not send us word?"

"I did not send word for I did not know if I would make it this far," Erik began. "There are still many dangers in traveling despite the peace they say is soon to be declared."

Annalise grabbed his hands and held tightly. "Why would you risk it? I would never have forgiven myself if something were to have happened to you!"

A look of such sorrow passed over Erik's face that Annalise lowered her eyes, feeling foolish for even asking the question. Of course he would have known; of course he would have come. He had always known when there had been joy or sorrow or danger in the lives of those that he loved and he had always returned. Annalise suddenly felt far older than her thirty-eight years as the greatest sorrow of her life rose up and threatened to once again drown her in its black emptiness. She raised her head and saw her own grief etched into Erik's aged countenance. "Maman," Annalise said softly.

Erik's chin trembled and he closed his eyes, trying to compose the emotions that she had always brought forth in him. No matter the years, no matter the distance, no matter how many arms wrapped him in love, Christine had always been - and would always be - the greatest love of his life. "I cannot believe she is gone," he whispered before opening his eyes. "What happened? Please tell me she was not in any pain!" he pleaded.

Annalise returned the tight clasp that held onto her own hands. "There was no pain," Annalise assured him. She swallowed as she struggled to retain a sense of composure. "Maman was in the garden with Father, they were looking at the new roses." Her thumb caressed the inside of Erik's wrist. "Maman planted roses the year I was married, you know." She shook her head. "Of course you know, you saw them when Madeline was born." Annalise sighed. "I think the war tired Maman out. I do not think any of us knew how much until we received word that Bertrand ... that ... he had been lost. And I know she worried about Andrew once he came home. I think it was all just too much for her." Annalise took back one of her hands to rest it against Erik's right cheek. "She was in the garden with Father and they sat down to look at the blooms. Father put his hand about her waist and he thought she was resting on his shoulder. He did not even realize she had gone. It was quiet and peaceful and fast. Maman ... died ... in the arms of the man who loved her, surrounded by the roses you loved."

"Christine," Erik sobbed and felt himself drawn into the arms of the woman seated next to him. This woman who so looked like her mother that it broke his heart while, at the same time, it filled him with such a sense of peace.

"She always spoke of you with such love," Annalise whispered to him. "You were always in her thoughts and in her heart."

"Thank you," Erik whispered back as he collected his thoughts. She had loved him. She had always loved him.

Annalise finally drew back as she felt Erik's grip on her loosen. "Richard is gone, too," she told him. "He only died a few months ago." Annalise closed her eyes in pain and sorrow. "And Father is not well. He has not been will since Maman ... and now with Richard ..." Annalise took back one of her hands to push her hair from her face. "I am losing everyone I have ever loved." She raised her head to look at the sun gleaming overhead. "It is not fair!" she screamed.

"I find that life is seldom fair," Erik replied gently. "I am truly sorry about your Father."

"Thank you," Annalise lowered her head. "That means so much coming from you." She let out a long breath before turning to look at the man seated next to her. "What of Mairead, Siobhan and Patrick?"

The pain on Erik's face eased at the names of his family upon his little angel's lips. "They are well. They are the joys of my old age, my life. Ireland was spared from the worst of the war but it has not been easy for the influenza has struck us, as well. Yet, I have an uncanny knack for survival and it seems to be something I have passed to my children." He sighed. "They were not happy that I chose to leave them but Mairead understood. She has always understood."

"I am so glad you found her."

"I am glad we found each other," Erik said as he drew Annalise into his side, feeling her head go to rest against his shoulder. "Tell me how Andrew fares."

"He is far better than he was two years ago. He has grown stronger and his spirit has returned." Annalise sniffled. "He will always walk with a limp and he tires so easily but I do not care. He came home to me which is more than most women will have. As long as we are together, nothing else matters."

Erik nodded. "I always knew he was strong." He kissed Annalise's head. "Just as I knew you were stronger than you imagined."

"These last years have left me questioning my strength."

"But you have not given in to those doubts."

"No," Annalise replied. "I could not. I had the estate to run and the children to raise while Andrew was gone. I could not give in to any doubts or fears." She sighed. "That is why I come here. This is my special spot. This is where I can let loose all my grief and fears without anyone seeing them." She turned to smile up at Erik. "No one except God and the memories of wonderful man met in a long ago summer."

"Oh, my little angel," Erik sighed.

They sat quietly for moment each lost in thoughts of years gone by.

"How long do you plan to stay?" Annalise wondered.

"Just today," Erik said softly.

Annalise sat up, looking at her companion in confusion. "Why?"

"There are things I must do," Erik told her. "I must go to the village cemetery and pay my respects to Tomas." He paused as Annalise nodded her head. "And then I must go to Paris for there is something I would like to retrieve, if it still exists." He shook his head at the question on Annalise's face. "I am seeking a music box." He laid a finger against her lips. "That is all you need to know. And I wish to pay my respects to Madame Giry for we both grow old and I should like to see her again."

A sudden cloud descended upon Annalise. "You are never going to come back again, are you?"

"No," came the simple reply.

Annalise began to cry again. "I cannot lose you, too!"

"Annalise," Erik said as he placed a hand over her heart. "I shall always live within your heart and that is something that no one can ever take from you. You and I will always have that long ago summer and our spirits will live in this clearing until the end of time. But Time and God wait for no man. You and your brothers and your families are the promise my Angel made to the future she knew would exist. When you gave me back my soul, I was finally free to find my promise to that same future. That promise lives in Siobhan and Patrick. Let our promises be living proof that we shall never lose each other." Erik smiled at Annalise. "All I ask is that you pray for this soul of mine for I should dearly like to find you," he paused and drew a deep breath, "and your mother in Heaven someday. Maybe even earn your father's forgiveness."

"Father forgave you long ago," Annalise said as she wiped at her tears. "And Maman never stopped thinking of you or praying for you. I promise I shall do the same." She thought quietly for moment, her mind reaching back five years. "But there is something you must know before you leave ..." her tone held a slight note of panic.

Whatever Annalise had been about to say was interrupted by a crashing noise that echoed throughout the copse of trees. The noise was followed by voices calling out: "Maman!"

Annalise smiled warmly at Erik. "There is something you need to know." She turned towards the path and called out, "In the clearing, my loves."

Erik turned to follow Annalise's gaze and was startled to see two small children, running down the path and stopping as they saw their mother seated on the log with a strange man. The children, who held each other's hands, could not have been more than five. She had the long dark curls and bright blue eyes of her mother. He also had his mother's dark hair but it was straight and his golden-brown eyes definitely belonged to his father.

"Madeline sent us to fetch you," the little girl said.

"Papa says it is time for lunch," the little boy finished.

"We could not get word to you because of the turmoil of the war that was beginning," Annalise said as she looked at Erik, "but Andrew and I had a very unexpected pregnancy five years ago. It was difficult and it nearly killed all of us but it worked out in the end." She turned towards her children and held out her hands. "It is all right," she told them and waited until the children crossed to her side. "Erik, I would like you to meet Christian and Erika." She smiled down at her children. "This is my dearest and truest friend," she told them. "This is Monsieur Lachaise."

Erik sat stunned as he looked at the two little faces looking back at him. Christian and Erika. He could feel his heart breaking even as his soul glowed with the honor that had been given to him, to his beloved angel, to their memories. He noted that Erika had moved close to her mother and was looking at him with a bit of apprehension in her sweet little face. Christian, though, stood by himself, studying the man in front of him with a smug arrogance that Erik knew had come from his father. He laughed delightedly at this unexpected and wondrous turn of events. "Oh, my little angel," he managed between his laughs.

Christian turned to look at his mother. "You do not look like an angel, Maman."

"Yes, she does," Erika told her brother with a smile.

"Go and wait by the path," Annalise told her children. She watched as they walked across the clearing and waited by the entrance to the path. When she turned back to speak with Erik, she found he had gone. She had not even felt him stand or heard him as he walked away from her. Annalise bit back a sob. "I will always love you and hold you dear," she said to the clearing.

"Always," the woods echoed back. "_Au revoir_, my little angel"

"_Au revoir_," Annalise whispered. She stood, swallowed and blew a kiss into the shadows beneath the trees before standing and walking to her children. She took their little hands in her own and guided them from the woods. They walked out into the sunshine and paused to look down at their home. Annalise could see Andrew by the back gate, his hand raised in greeting, waiting for them to return. Annalise smiled and knew that he could see her smile across the distance. She looked down at the two little faces looking up at her.

"Who was that man?" Christian wanted to know.

"He had a nice laugh," Erika added.

Annalise smiled at her children. "Would you like to hear a story?" she asked them and waited until they nodded their little heads. She walked down the hill towards home, still holding to the soft hands in her own. "Once upon a time there was a pretty singer and the prince who loved her and the Angel of Music who watched over them both ..."


End file.
